| Oh kiss me Maggie & take me home
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| For I sure dinnae feel like dyin' alone
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| Gawn geez a shot, chuck a doggie a bone
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| Or a penny for me rattlin' can
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| As sure as Christ it’s a bitter pill
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| But if you won’t have me, yer sister will
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| I’ll cart me arse doon Surry Hills & call her out this evenin'
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| Go on, go well, ye’re no catch o' mine
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| Yer clothes in rags, ye reek o' fags & old green ginger wine
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| My sisters aye a leezie into the drinkin', dogs & cards
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| My poor departed Father couldn’t flog her at the yards
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| I’m a man o' some renown 'Jack the Lad' about the town
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| We’ll share a plate of oysters, crack the neck o' Billy Brown
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| Sly grog & salty treats, I’ll not grant yer wish
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| I’m promised to the toll collector boy upon the bridge
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| Like good whisky in bad wounds
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| Like honey on a toothache, you’ll never be mine
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| Tho' we can dance, b’Jesus, we’ll swing like the razors
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| Of Kate Leigh & Tilly Devine
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| Why wait until yer dancin' shoes are scuffed and in the bin?
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| I’ll stitch my holey duds, scrape the whiskers from me chin
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| We’ll get ye down yer scarlet gown, I’ll steal you somethin' blue
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| I’d waltz off Millers point before I walk the aisle with you!
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| Oh I’ll sing you 'six ribbons'!
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| Aye when your 'three sheets'!
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| Yer drunken, brawlin' caterwaulin' echoes through the streets
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| Y’know I’m not yet very old
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| Sure it’s poison when its cold
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| And a dear old southerly belters sure to blow! |