Mirth and Metre consisting of Poems, Serious, Humorous, and Satirical; Songs, Sonnets, Ballads & Bagatelles. Written by C. Dibdin, Jun |
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THE WOLF ROBBER. |
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THE WOLF ROBBER.
My father stole mother from school,
My mother with him stole a match;
And you know very well the old rule,
That those who “harm watch, may harm catch;”
So my father a cunning man told,
A robber this stolen match would cross;
And my mother said, when a year old,
I look'd more like a thief than a horse.
Tol, &c.
My mother with him stole a match;
And you know very well the old rule,
That those who “harm watch, may harm catch;”
So my father a cunning man told,
A robber this stolen match would cross;
And my mother said, when a year old,
I look'd more like a thief than a horse.
Tol, &c.
To sell fish-hooks, my dad didn't scorn,
And that is the cause, I dare say,
I with fish-hooks for fingers was born,
For they catch all that comes in their way.
The parish collector was dad,
And by it got plenty of pelf,
So seeing the trade wasn't bad,
I set up collector myself.
Tol, &c.
And that is the cause, I dare say,
I with fish-hooks for fingers was born,
For they catch all that comes in their way.
The parish collector was dad,
And by it got plenty of pelf,
So seeing the trade wasn't bad,
I set up collector myself.
Tol, &c.
182
Long my trade pretty well I've pursu'd,
Sometimes banging, at other times bang'd;
And catch me they would if they could,
But faith, if they do I'll be hang'd!
Yet hanging's an odd sort of strife,
And perpaps it's prophetic of wreck,
That I've always been subject thro' life
To catching a crick in my neck.
Tol, &c.
Sometimes banging, at other times bang'd;
And catch me they would if they could,
But faith, if they do I'll be hang'd!
Yet hanging's an odd sort of strife,
And perpaps it's prophetic of wreck,
That I've always been subject thro' life
To catching a crick in my neck.
Tol, &c.
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