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Come listen to me story, it's about a nice young man
When the militia wasn't wanting, he dealt in hawking twang
He loved a lovely maiden,  as fair as any midge
And she kept a treacle billy depot, one side of the Carlisle Bridge

Another one came courting her and his name was Mickey Bags
He was a commercial traveller and he dealt in bones and rags
Well he took her down by Sandymount, for to see waters roll
And he stole the heart of the twangmans mot, playing Billy-in-the-Bowl

Well when the twangman heard of this he fell into a terrible rage
And he swore by the contents of his twang cart,
     on him he would have his revenge
So he lays in wait near to James's Gate and when poor old Bags come up
With his twang knife he took the life of the poor old gather-em-up

Well now yiz have heard me story and I hope yiz'll be good men
And not go chasing the Twangman's mot or any other old hen
For they'll leave you without a brass farthing, not even your old sack of rags
And ye'll wind up in the gutter there, like poor old Mickey Bags!