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MV FATHER HE LEFT ME A SNUG LITTLE COT.
My father he left me a snug little cot, Which by one trifling accident I never got, For dying without his will haying been made. Not a legacy m it ever was paid.
‘Twas a neat little cot, built with weather board stout, Which kept every thing else but the weather clean out, Had a pig stye for poultry without any door, It was two stories high, and both on the ground floor.
A beautiful garden, with weeds overgrown, And an elegant fish-pond dried up by the sun Then the house stood convenient enough you may say, Next door to the whisky-shop over the way. ‘Twas a freehold estate, heir at law was myself, So to law went about it of course with an elf. Gain’d the cause, but to try it so long time requir’d The freehold I lost, ‘cause the lease was expir’d.
