Jesus, what’s got into Jock?
When I asks him how is tricks,
Bloody nearly done his block;
Comes down like a load of bricks.
What, that piece from Eucumbene,
No, for Chris’sake,
Chucked him, has she? — Well, I mean,
She’ll be jake.
Girls, they always back and fill,
Saying no and meaning yes.
Christ, have I been through the mill!
Might of married one, I guess.
Yeah, I could of too, by God!
But, for Chris’sake,
Give’s a hand with this poor sod;
She’ll be jake.
Ar, there, Jocko! I just heard:
Shot through, did she? Lucky youse!
Get yourself another bird,
That’s the shot, mate: what’s the use
Crying in your bloody beer?
Well, for Chris’sake,
She’ll be jake, mate, never fear,
She’ll be jake!
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