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My patent blue rib’d-stockings,
I wear with a grace,
My watch-chains on each side,
hang down so grandy—O;
With my spy-glass in my hand,
patch and paint upon my face,
From my feather to my buckles,
I’m the Dandy—O.
At concerts and at dances,
the Ladies I will court,
With words and looks as sweet
as sugar-candy—o.
And then for fighting duels, O I
shall have charming sport,
Then dam’me, who but I shall
be the Dandy—O
And when that a great warrior
I come home, I design,
With Jacob here to take a
nip of brandy—O!
For who knows but in time,
he’ll hang me up for his sign,
Then Caleb, boy, I think
you’ll be the Dandy—O.
TIPPET IS THE DANDY—O!
THERE is a chambermaid
lives into the south;
So tight, so light, so neat,
