They All Have a Mate but Me.
Kind Christians, all on you I call,
If to pity you feel inclined;
Your care bestow on a fellow full of woe.
Who is almost off his mind.
Six wives I've wed, but they've all gone dead,
My love was labor in vain;
For I've married And I've buried till I'm very near worried.
And I'm sick with wives on the brain.
There's the fox and the hare,
And the badger And the bear,
And the birds on the greenwood tree;
And the pretty little rabbits,
So engaging in their habits,
And they all have a mate but me.
The first on the page is little Sally Sage,
She once was a lady's maid;
But she ran away on a very dark day,
With a fellow in the fried fish trade.
The next was a cook, oh, a beauty with a hook.
And I'll tell you the reason why;
For a leg she'd a stump, on her back was a hump,
And she'd got a little squint in her eye.-Chorus.
Another one to charm was a girl on a farm.
Well versed in the harrows and ploughs;
She guarded the rigs of a lot of little pigs,
And squeezed new milk from the cows.
She was sixteen stone, all muscle and bone,
And she looked with an awful leer;
And she would have been mine, but fell in a decline,
Thro' swallowing a mouse in her beer. -Chorus.
Then another one came, ah! a right jolly dame,
And her purse was as long as my arm;
All full of yellow gold, such a sight to behold,
Would the heart of a miser warm.
And her only sin was a love for gin,
But it brought our hopes to a wreck;
For she slipp'd with her heel on a bit of orange peel.
Fell down and broke her blessed neck.-Chorus.
I could add to the score full a half dozen more,
For the list is a long way round;
One went o'er the sea for a better chap than me,
And some of them were hanged or drowned.
And the last I had through drink went mad,
In vain I tried to stop her;
And sad was my dismay, to discover that one day
She'd been slowly boiled to death in the copper.-Chorus.