An' rowlin' her bonnad ribbons to be all so nate's a pin,
An' larnin' the childher their duty, bill Spashul this wan that's in.
Its like she'd be radin' the laws to 'm while sittin' beside his bed,
The way she'd be havin' him studdy by the time he'd come to be head.
An' sarvin' his time for King, eddicated an' all for to know,
Aw, a rale grammatical falla—Prince of Wales they were callin' him to,
An' was'n it our "Cap'n" Hunter that was with him aboord the ship,
To see that them ignorant haythens was not givin' none of their lip.
There's them comin' though—there—roun' by Cronk Urleigh, see—
Gerrourra th' road, Lizzie veen! Is it devoured you're wantin' to be
Under the feet of the horses? Si an' quite, now, for these wans to tell
The pretty the Manx gels is—(The King passes)—Aw! Well!
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