paroles de chanson Budg & Snudg - John Kirkpatrick , Stick in the Wheel

The budge it is a delicate trade
And a delicate trade of fame
For when that we have bit the bloe
We carry away the game
But if the cully nap us
And the lurries from us take
Then they rub us to the whit
And it's hardly worth a make

But when we come to the whit
Our darbies to behold
And for to take our penitency
And boose the water cold
But when that we come out again
And the merry hick we meet
We bite the cully of his cole
As we walk along the street

And when that we come to the whit
For garnish they do cry
Mary faugh you son of a whore
You'll have it by and by
Then every man with his mort in his hand

Does booze off his can and part
With-a-kiss we part and westward stand
To the nubbing cheat in a cart

But when we come to Tyburn
For going on the budge
There stands Jack Ketch that son of a bitch
That owes us all a grudge
And when he has noosed us
And our friends tip him no cole
O then he throws us in the cart
And tips us in the hole

But if we have a friend stand by
Six-and eightpence-for-to-pay
Then they may have our bodies back
And carry us quite away
For at St Giles or St Martins
A burying place is still
And there's the end of a darkman's budge
And the whoreson have his will