Song. Deborah and Jonathan

Jonathan a wooing went, He was such a bonny man! And matrimony was the bent, Of little jolly Jonathan: Deborah, the damsel's name, Buxem was and frisky-o! And sure as ever Sunday came, He drove her in his whisky-o; Oh the whisky! Fine and srisky! What a happy maid and man, Deborah and Jonathan!

Jonathan a squabby elf, Very short though strong enough, Found his wooing, like himself, Not half a quater long enough: Cries he—'twill be a lucky hit, With wealthy Deb. to tether-o! So dug for Deb. the marriage pit, And in they fell together-o! O the tumble, Jolt and jumble, What a frisky wife and man, Deborah and Jonathan,

Deborah had money got, Jonathan diminish'd it; Drank about, nor left his pot, 'Till fifty times he finish'd it; When tipsey he, then Deb. will pout; When sober scratch and quarrel-o! He bangs the door, damns, flounces out, And soaks again his barrel-o! O the croaking, Scratching, soaking; What a happy maid and man, Deborah and Jonathan.