Too Short for the Service.
I'll sing you a song of a cobbler,
Who lived iii the Town of Tralee;
His name it was Anthony Dobbler,
And a very smart fellow was he.
He worked at his stall all so gaily,
He whistled and sung like a bird,
Till, poor fellow, he saw Judy Bailey,
Which altered the case, on my word.
O dear! O dear!
When Cupid once gets in the way,
Be it Dustman or Duke, Lord, Coachman or Cook,
The urchin they're bound to obey.
For now he sits glumpish and moody,
Never a whistle or song;
Can it be all Mistress Judy?
Or what upon earth can be wrong?
O some folks will say that he waited
On Judy to ask might he woo?
When sad on his ears these words grated,
"No, Anthony, that will not do."
O dear! O dear! &c
"For I love a lad who is fighting
In foreign lands, far, far away,
Who the wrongs of his country is righting,
So don't you stay longer, I pray."
