[ 5 ]
An image should appear at this position in the text. To use the entire page scan as a placeholder, edit this page and replace "{{missing image}}" with "{{raw image|Irish wedding (2).pdf/5}}". Otherwise, if you are able to provide the image then please do so. For guidance, see Wikisource:Image guidelines and Help:Adding images. |  |
THE TINKER’S SONG.
MY daddy was a tinker's son,
And I’m his boy, his ten to one,
Here's pots to mend! was still his cry,
Here’s pots to mend! aloud bawl I;
Have ye tin pots, kettles, or canns,
Coppers to solder, or brass pans.
Of wives my dad had near a score,
And I have twice as many more;
And what’s as wonderful as true,
My daddy was the L---d (upon my foul he was) the lord knows who?
’Tis a hard matter for a child to know its own father, besides, my mother was a Queen: Oh! yes she was Queen of the Gypsies, and perhaps I was born a Prince! though now, like other tinkers, I mend a hole and make twa, with my
}Tan ran tan, tan ran tan, tan,
For pot or cann, oh! I’m your man.
Once I in budget, snug had got
A barn-door capon, and what not,
Here’s pots to mend! I cried along,
Here’s pots to mend! was still my song
At village wakeoh! curse his throat,
The cock crow’d out so loud a note.
The folk in clusters flock’d around,
They seiz’d my budget, in it found
The cock, a gammon, pease and beans,
Besides a jolly tinker (yes by the L--d) a tinker's ways and means.
Oh! they took my all, left me nothing but my paternal estate, which consisted of my
Tan ran tan, tan ran tan tan, etc.
