Now what’s the most appropriate thing
To do whilst waiting at the wing?
Of course you guess the answer?—Synge.
And I hope the tune will do!
I sing the joys of married life,
Which Pillicoddy finds so rife.
In fact, good folk, you’ll find a wife
is——Hoop de dooden doo!
Her bills! Ten pounds for boots, I see:
And six for gloves, and—oh dear me!
Here’s just one hundred ninety-three
for——Hoop de dooden doos!
Commissions. ‘Twenty yards of stuff
To pattern—try and match this cuff—
And—just bring home—another Muff!’
That’s Hoop de dooden doo!
The little kids! It seemed a treat
At first to see them frisk and bleat—
But now I find that they—can—eat—
like—Hoop de dooden doo!
So, gin a body meet a body
And make a match, some day you’ll modi-
fy your views like Pillicoddy,
Hoop de dooden doo!
Sir, are you married? Yes, you sigh!
Well, ‘Happy man!’ I make reply.
What, single? ‘Lucky dog!’ say I,
Hoop de dooden doo!