English poem
Ii
by John Stephen Farmer (1854–1916)
Says I,--"Miss Moll, don't tip this gam, You knows as how it will not do; For you I milled flash Dustman Sam Who made your peepers black and blue. Vhy, then you swore you would be kind But you have queer'd so much of late, And always changing like the wind, So now I'll brush and sell my skate." Buy my skate, etc.