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More Bab Ballads by Sir W. S. (William Schwenck) Gilbert
page 79 of 149 (53%)
With some one thrice your age, MATILDA?
You squatted free upon his knee,
A sight that made me sad, MATILDA!
You pinched his cheek with friendly tweak,
Which almost drove me mad, MATILDA!

I knew him not, but hoped to spot
Some man you thought to wed, MATILDA!
I took a gun, my darling one,
And shot him through the head, MATILDA!
I'm made of stuff that's rough and gruff
Enough, I own; but, ah, MATILDA!
It DID annoy your sailor boy
To find it was your pa, MATILDA!

I've passed a life of toil and strife,
And disappointments deep, MATILDA;
I've lain awake with dental ache
Until I fell asleep, MATILDA!
At times again I've missed a train,
Or p'rhaps run short of tin, MATILDA,
And worn a boot on corns that shoot,
Or, shaving, cut my chin, MATILDA.

But, oh! no trains--no dental pains--
Believe me when I say, MATILDA,
No corns that shoot--no pinching boot
Upon a summer day, MATILDA--
It's my belief, could cause such grief
As that I've suffered for, MATILDA,
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