A poor relation came to crave
His bounty,—what d'ye think he gave?
He gave him a kick for daring to beg,
And kick'd him so hard that he broke—his own leg.
Ri-too-ral-loo-ral, &c.
He very much wished to preserve his limb,
But the doctor, on seeing it, said to him,
This leg must come off—but don't look glum,
It still may be preserv'd—in rum.
Ri-too-ral-loo-ral, &c.
Now Mynheer was proud, and could not decide
'Twixt a mortified leg and a mortified pride
But consented at last, not liking it half
For he felt quite cow'd for the loss of his calf.
Ri-too-ral-loo-ral, &c.
A cork leg he determin'd to have complete
An artist engaged to do the feat,
With springs and screws, and clock-work within,
That the loss of his leg did not matter a pin.
Ri-too-ral-loo-ral, &c.
He put on his leg to take a walk.
His new leg stepp'd as light as cork;
He put out his hand when an old friend met him,
And wanted to stop, but his leg would not let him.
Ri-too-ral-loo-ral, &c.
