GLASS PUT IN.
Oh! my song is of a nice young man,
Whose name was Johnny Glass;
He was a glazier by trade, and the stamps he made
As through back streets he'd pass.
He started in life with putty and knife,
And a big pane of glass to begin;
He was fat as a hub And fond of his grub,
And he hallooed out, "Glass put in!"
He'd rise with the lark and, from daylight till dark,
He'd trudge through wind and the rain;
By the light of the lamps he would count his stamps,
Next morning he'd be off again.
'Twas joy to his soul when he spied a hole.
Or a window patched with tin,
With his eyes rolled up he'd yelp like a pup:
"Do you want any glass put in? "
At length he fell deep in love,
But the fault was not all his own;
He got shot through the heart, with Cupid's dart,
By a little Dutch girl half grown.
With a huge, large paw she broke his jaw,
When his keg was half-full of gin.
As he rolled in the dirt, she cries, "Where is you hurt?"
And his answer was, "Glass put in."
Oh, he made her his frou, but I can't tell you how
They passed a honeymoon;
The pork was all hot boiling in the pot,
As he toddled home that noon.
Years rolled by, three children did cry-
Two boys And a girl-what a sin!
Oh, they christened the last Miss Put-in-Glass,
And the boys they called: Glass-Put In.