I

Rum old Mog was a leary flash mot, and she was round and fat, With twangs in her shoes, a wheelbarrow too, and an oilskin round her hat; A blue bird's-eye o'er dairies fine-- as she mizzled through Temple Bar, Of vich side of the way, I cannot say, but she boned it from a Tar-- Singing, tol-lol-lol-lido.