he'd finished they all knocked ther glasses on th' table bi way ov
applaudin, which th' lonlady hearin, at once coom in an' ax'd if they
wor "callin?" an' as all wor empty, shoo luk'd varry hard at th'
cheerman, an' he nodded "as befoor," soa shoo gethered up th' empties,
an' called for Liza "to bring in them glasses," which wor at once done,
an' showd a gooid deal o' foreseet on her part i' havin 'em ready.

When all had getten sarved wi' hot watter, an' given ovver crushin
sugar, th' cheerman announced 'at it wor Mr. Standhen's call, soa up
jumped Standhen, an' said "he couldn't do better nor call owd Mosslump
for a song." Some moor applause followed this, but they didn't knock
th' tables wi' ther glasses this time, becoss they wor too full.
Mosslump stood up, wiped his maath wi' th' corners ov his necktie,
turned up his e'en as if he wor gooin to depart this life i' peace, an'
in a voice, time, an' manner peculiarly his own he sung--

Mistress Moore is Johnny's wife,
An' Johnny is a druffen sot;
He spends th' best portion ov his life
I'th beershop wi' a pipe an' pot.
At schooil together John an' me
Set side by side like trusty chums,
An' niver did we disagree
Till furst we met sweet Lizzy Lumbs.
At John shoo smiled,
An' aw wor riled;
Shoo showed shoo loved him moor nor me
Her bonny e'en
Aw've seldom seen
Sin' that sad day shoo slighted me.

Aw've heeard fowk say shoo has to want,
For Johnny ofttimes gets o'th spree;
He spends his wages in a rant,
An' leeaves his wife to pine or dee.
An' monny a time aw've ligged i' bed,
An' cursed my fate for bein poor,
An' monny a bitter tear aw've shed,
When thinkin ov sweet Mistress Moore.
For shoo's mi life
Is Johnny's wife,
An' tho' to love her isn't reet,
What con aw do,
When all th' neet throo
Aw'm dreeamin ov her e'en soa breet.

Aw'll goa away an' leeave this spot,
For fear 'at we should iver meet,
For if we did, as sure as shot
Awst throw me daan anent her feet.
Aw know shoo'd think aw wor a fooil,
To love a woman when shoo's wed,
But sin' aw saw her furst at schooil,
It's been a wretched life aw've led.
But th' time has come
To leeave mi hooam,
An' th' sea between us sooin shall roar,
Yet still mi heart
Will niver part
W