This London, Agrah ! is the Devil?s own shop

From great Londonerry to London so merry,
My own natty self in a wagon did ride;
In London so frisky folks ride in their whisky,
At Connaught they carry their whisky inside.
I jump?d from the wagon and saw a Green Dragon,
I spy?d a Blue Boar when I turn?d to the south;
At the swan with two throttles I tippled two bottles,
And bother?d the beef at the Bull and the Mouth.

CHORUS
Ah! Paddy, my honey ! look a?ter your money,
?Tis all botheration from bottom top;
Sing didderoo daisy, my jewel be aisy,
This London, agrah ! is the devil?s own shop.

The great city wax-work was all a mere tax-work,
A plan to bamboozle me out of my pelf,
Says I, Mrs. Salmon, c?up none of your gammon,
Your figures are no more alive than yourself.
I ax?d an old quaker the way to Long Acre;
With thee and with thou he so bother?d my brain,
After fifty long sallies, thro? lanes and blind alleys,
I found myself trotting in Rosemary Lane.
Ah! Paddy, &c.

At night, O how silly, along Piccadilly,
I wander?s when up comes a beautiful dame;
Huzza, says the lady, how do you do, Paddy,
Says I, Pretty well, ma?am, I hope you?re the same.
A great hulking fellow, who held her umbrella,
Then game me a terrible thump on the nob!
She ran away squalling; I, Watch ! watch ! was bawling;
The devil a watch was there left in my fob.
Ah! Paddy, &c.

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