She's the flinger of plurabilly teas,

She was, once-upon-a-golden-time;

And a good time it was two,

Despite the old hairy gobeen man,

Who was a-coming down a road,

drinking from a can.

She met a nice-uns-little boy name Baby Tookoo,

Her mother slopped her drat story.

Her rather had a leery face:

Sin, sin, Jesuitical-sin

………………………………….

Oh! No! For she shrew the grass darkly

Her baby, a faerie sprite,

Was so-so full o’spite:
milk white, lemon yellow, black taste, quite

She slangalong:

“Oh why is mi wife in a miner quay?

Oh! why do me words a-mutter-to me?

......

And have she a goblin’s pretty face ?
and have she a-thought o'him, me, a-man-made o’lace?

Wiv her yellowish plait
She cud fright-a-cat

But, oh! Nip! she only have her seams 
She spread her dreams under me feet

Me feet, dancing dainty, to waltz her to love me.