Mirth and Metre :: :: University of Virginia Library

We took water for Egypt, the gale blowing smart,
To catch the Ma'mlukes, and to beat Buonaparte;
But the Turks swore his name wasn't right, by my soul,
For instead of a part he'd have fain bon'd the whole.
Balina mona ora! O, conscience in all things for me!

To Egypt our way thro' the ocean we found,
Tho' I thought on the water we'd all run aground;
But for Ma'mlukes or Sir Lukes we'd no call to roam,
When a Saint Lukes' we've got all so handy at home.
Balina mona ora! The snug little island for me.

Tho' they've wonders in Egypt, at home we've as queer;
If they've pyramids there, why we've obstacles here;
And tho' crocòdiles thereon you make a repast,
Here monopolists eat the folks ten times as fast.
Balina mona ora! Bad luck to forestallers for me!

Their mummies are dead men, stuff'd from heel to head;
So they live you 500 years after they're dead.
But the reason's as plain as the nose on your face,
I suppose there's no doctor all over the place.
Balina mona ora! A comely fat cookwife for me!

They've gypsies enough to tell fortunes, agrah!
But we all very well know the fortune of war;
But may war prove a bankrupt, for ever to cease,
And plenty exult in the fortune of peace!
Balina mona ora! O, peace and cheap living for me!