This page has been validated.
6
Tho’ reins of silk I long have wore,
And silver st’rrups my sides hang o’er,
My crib tho’ fill’d with corn in store,
And something better,
Yet can I deign to snort and snore
Who’ll buy my water.
Ting-ling, ting-ling, ting-ling, ting-ling,
For tea and washing here’s the thing,
Fresh from the willow-shelter’d spring,
O rare as honey!
Ting-ling, ting-ling, ting-ling, ting-ling,
Hand in your money.
’Tis pure as amber, light as air,
Softer than oil, as whisky clear,
More wholesome far than spruce or beer,
As brandy strong,
Than punch or claret nobler chear,
