| Come listen to my story, it’s about a nice young man
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| When the militia wasn’t a wantin', he dealt in hawkin' twang
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| He loved a lovely maiden as fair as any midge
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| And she kept a traycle depot one side of the Carlisle bridge
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| Well, another one came a courtin' her and his name was Mickey Baggs
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| He was a commercial traveller and he dealt in bones and rags
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| Well, he took her out to Sandymount for to see the waters roll
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| And he stole the heart of the Twangman’s girl playin' 'Billy In The Bowl'
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| Oh, when the twang man heard of this he flew into a terrible rage
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| And he swore be the content of his twang cart, on him he’d have revenge
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| So he stood in wait near James' gate till the poor old Baggs came up
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| And with his twang knife, sure he took the life of the poor old gather `em up
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| And it’s now ye have heard me story and I hope ye’ll be good men
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| And not go chasing the Twangman’s mot or any other oul' hen
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| For she’ll leave you without a brass farthing, not even your old sack of rags
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| And that’s the end of the story of poor old Mickey the Baggs |