Youth’s the time for pleasure, life is but a span, Gayety’s a treasure, seize it while you can, Old men couldn’t go it, were they to be hung, Their looks and actions show it--then _Go it_ while you’re young, &c.
Queen Victoria is very sick, Napoleon’s got the measles, Sebastopol’s not taken yet; Pop goes the weasel,
All around the cobbler’s bench, The monkey chased the weasel The priest, he kiss’d the cobbler’s wife; Pop went the weasel.
A penny for a ball of thread, A penny for a needle, That’s the way the money goes; Pop goes the weasel. All around, &c.
My wife, she is awful sick, The baby’s got the measles, Sally’s got the hooping-cough; Pop goes the weasel. All around, &c.
Johnny Bull, he makes his brag, He can whip the whole creation, Why don’t he take Sebastopol, By Pop goes the weasel. All around, &c.
Mayor Wood has put the rumsellers through, The Maine Law’s a sad evil, We cannot get our toddy now; Pop goes the weasel. All around, &c.
It was in this city, not far from this spot, Where a barber he opened a snug little shop; He was silent and sad, but his smile was so sweet, That he pulled every body right out of the street. With his lather and shave ’em, lather and shave ’em, Lather and shave ’em, frizzle ’em bum.
One horrid bad custom he thought he would stop, That no one for credit should come to his shop; So he got him a razor full of notches and rust, To shave the poor devils who come there for trust. With his lather and shave, &c.
One day a poor Irishman passed by that way, Whose beard had been growing for many a day; He looked at the barber, and he put down his hod, “Will you trust me a shave for the pure love o’ God?” With your lather and shave, &c.
“Walk in,” says the barber, “sit down in that chair, I’ll soon mow your beard off right down to a hair.” So his lather he spread over Paddy’s big chin, And with his “trust” razor to shave did begin. With his lather and shave, &c.
“Och, murder!” says Paddy, “now what are you doin’? Leave off wid yer tricks, or my jaws you will ruin, Faith, now how would you like to be shaved wid a saw? Be the powers, you’ll pull every tooth out o’ me jaw.” With your lather and shave, &c.
“Sit still,” says the barber, “and don’t make a din, With your moving your jaws, I’ll be cutting your chin.” “Not cut but sawed, och, that razor you’ve got, Sure it wouldn’t cut butter, if it wasn’t made hot. With your lather and shave, &c.