There was a rich Squire of Southwark,
From morning to night did his mouth work,
   So much and so fast,
   That he greatly surpass'd,
Westminster, London and Southwark.

There was an old captain of Dover,
Whom all the physicians gave over;
   At the sound of the drum
   And "The enemy's come"
Up jump'd the bold captain of Dover.

A butcher there was at Athlone,
Whom a beggar once ask'd for a bone;
   But he drove him away
   With a blow of his tray --
O! his heart was as hard as a stone.