 | English Roses |  |
THE SHADDER OF GAWD.
There's a Big Boss (but not pal) at Constantinopal,As I doant like to menshun who pays no attenshun
To the truth, an jest wallers in fraud—
An they stiles 'e the “Shadder of Gawd!”
'E as wives by the duzzins an unkills an cuzzins,
An most illigant eunicks in bowstrings an tunicks,
But delights in the beastliest bawd—
An they stiles 'e the “Shadder of Gawd!”
In orl as is nasty an d—d paderasty
An with shebooks an pizen is bloomin orizen,
Iz az sick az iz stummick with lawd—
An they stiles 'e the “Shadder of Gawd!”
Ah, 'e brekfusts on babbies an un-faithful cabbies
An 'e sits at iz lunchin their marryboans crunchin,
While good Christians fur dinner iz chaw'd—
An they stiles 'e the “Shadder of Gawd!”
But he aint got no 'atter an 'e doant get no fatter
Fur iz pipes an iz coffee an sherbut an toffee,
Though with brains iz fine progress be straw'd—
An they stiles 'e the “Shadder of Gawd!”
Not to justiss 'e arkins an iz jallussy darkins
Earth an sky, an it follers the chappies with dollars
Till their teeth an the money be draw'd—
An they stiles e' the “Shadder of Gawd!”
| English Roses | |