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Song XIV. BEN EYRE.
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Song XIV. BEN EYRE.

On Sunday morning last,
We played a trick not fair,
We stole near twenty walking sticks,
Belonging to Ben Eyre.

18

Blencorn and him did thwart,
While we took thick and small,
Then one by one we took them down,
'Till we had got them all.
To Gosports then we went,
Where we got ready sale;
To such like drunkards as ourselves,
We sold them by retail.
When Ben awoke from sleep,
Thinking to view his store,
From off the balk he miss'd his sticks,
Lord how he curs'd and swore!
Then he began to think
Who had been in his room,
Two blackguard dogs Blencorn and Ben,
Sure death shall be their doom.
How vex'd was I to think,
My trouble thrown away;
I went to Wharncliffe for those sticks,
Upon last New-Year's day.
But since my passion's cool'd,
I'm will'd to set them free,
I freely do forgive the world,
And hope the world will me.