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      The Curly Headed

                 BOY.

J. Pit's, Printer and Toy Warehouſe,
6, Great St. Andrew Street 7 Dials.

MY father was a farmer, and a farmer's son
am I.
And down in these parts I were born
When but a aucy urchin not half a handful high
I tended the sheep night and morn,
My dad and mammy spoil'd me I was their only
joy,
And they called their pretty little curly headed boy
So play'd and prank'd it prettily for life was but
a toy
To the very merry pretty little curly headed boy

But soon I shot up taller ill weeds they grow a
Then who was so likely as I,                 (pace,
The ruddy glow of healthfulness stood laughing
ing in my face,
And I reckon d that I look'd pretty sly.
For the village girls would titter, and cry with
seeming joy,
See there goes the pretty little curly headed boy,
So I kiss d and rompt it prettily for life was but s
toy,
To the very merry pretty little curly headed boy

Now dad and mam is dead and gone, the little
farm is my own
But so stupid's a batchelor's life,
I'ze resolved for sure and sartain I'ze no longer
live alone,
So in that case mun get me a wife;
Then the image of his dad I shall seem to crown
my joy,
On my knee another pretty little curly headed
boy,
Oh ! I'ze nurse and teach it prettily while wife
will cry wi' joy,
How like is dad is the pretty little curly headed
boy,