With a ran, tan, tan,
On my old tin can,
Heigh tinkle, how tinkle,
Heigh tinkle tang.
‘Tis not for my fault nor thy fault
That I Ride the stang–
But for Mrs.—- and her good-man.
She bang’d him, she bang’d him,
For spending a penny when he stood in need.
She up with a three-footed stool;
She struck him so hard, and she cut so deep,
Till the blood ran down like a new stuck sheep!
(Anonymous British)
More Poetry from Anonymous British:
- An Excellent Ballad Of George Barnwell, An Apprentice Of London (Anonymous British Poems)
- Poetical Reflections On A Late Poem Entitled Absalom And Achitophel (Anonymous British Poems)
- The Midnight Messenger. or A Sudden Call From An Earthly Glory To The Cold Grave. (Anonymous British Poems)
- The Bride's Burial. To The Tune Of The Lady's Fall (Anonymous British Poems)
- The Spanish Virgin, Or Effects Of Jealousy (Anonymous British Poems)
- The Ballad of Little Musgrave and Lady Barnard (Anonymous British Poems)