NANCY DAWSON
|
Nancy Dawson was so fine
She wouldn’t get up to serve the swine;
She lies in bed till eight or nine,
So it’s Oh, poor Nancy Dawson.
And do ye ken Nancy Dawson, honey?
The wife who sells the barley, honey?
She won’t get up to feed her swine,
And do ye ken Nancy Dawson, honey?
|
|
ONE MISTY MOISTY MORNING
|
One misty moisty morning,
When cloudy was the weather,
I chanced to meet an old man,
Clothed all in leather.
He began to compliment
And I began to grin.
How do you do? And how do you do?
And how do you do again?
|
|
|