BALLAD. (Patrick O'Row is my name)

Patrick O'Row is my name, My calling's the trade of a boxer, I'm a devil of a fellow for same, Why I'm bottom like any game cock sir;

Oh I tips 'em so tight Left and right, And to blind 'em so well I knows how; To the spine of the back I am blood, Ah honey 'twould do your heart good To be lathered by Patrick O'Row.

I presently knocks down my men, Your servant, says I, pray call again, Then I close up their peepers, and then I wish you good night Mr. Galaghan:

Were alive Master Slack, On his back I'd lay him as flat as he's now; 'Tis my washing, my lodging, and food, Ah honey 'twould do your heart good To be lathered by Patrick O'Row.

There's Johnson, and George, and Big Ben, Three bruisers that well can rally you, Though they thumped the three Birmingham men, Says I, my lads little I value you:

Mendoza and Ward Can strike hard, And to stop and put in well know how; Nay they're every taef of 'em blood, Yet honey 'twould do them all good To be lathered by Patrick O'Row.

Wid a handful of fellows like these Britania what glory I'd bring her to; Let the Spaniards come on when they please, Devil burn me we'd teach them a ting or two:

Wid a phalanx of fists In our lists, So nately we'd bodder their glow; We'd presently try if they're blood, Ah honey 'twould do their pride good To be lathered by Patrick O'Row.

Come all ye tight lads who would earn True fame, in a possee gather ye, How your country you'd serve would ye learn, Just only come here till I lather you:

Oh I'll make you so tight Left and right, And each knock-me-down argument know; Come here then, and try if you're blood, Devil burn me 'twill do your hearts good To be lathered by Patrick O'Row.