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THE COMIC SONGSTER.
TIPPITYWICHEr.
This morning Tory bandy,
My malady was such,
1 in my tea took brandy,
But took a cup too much.
(Hiccups) tol de rol.
But stop, I mus’n’t mag hard,
My bfad aches,—if you please,
One pinch of Irish blackguard
I’ll take, to give me ease.
(Sneezes) tol de rol.
Now I’m quite drowsy growing,
For this very morn
I rose when cock was crowing,—
Excuse me if I yawn.
(Yawns) tol de rol.
I’m not in cue for frolic,
Can’t up my spirits keep,
For love’s a windy cholic,—
’Tis that which makes me weep.
(Cries) tol de rol.
I’m not in mood for crying,
Care’s a silly calf,—
If to get fat you’re trying,
The only way’s to laugh.
(Laughs) tol de rol.