coming into riches, If your hand, it is that
brain is in a muddle, When you lie down in a
butcher, and he'll grip you, With his thumb and finger
itches, It's a sure, sure sign!
puddle, Singing "Auld Lang Syne"
nip you, Saying "Lamb, plump, fine!"
If your ribs should make you wiggle, Then you're
Absolutely diabolic'ly, And
Then around you, he will fumble; "One and
going to have a "tiggle." If your ears are itching
breathing alcoholic'ly. At last you clamber
two a pound," he'll mumble. If instead of saying
