Bottle-O!

I ai n't the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job; I drives me bottle cart around the town; A bloke what keeps‘ is eyes about can always make a bob — I could n't bear to graft for every brown.

There's lots of handy things about in everybody's yard, There's cocks and hens a-runnin’ to an’ fro, And little dogs what comes and barks — we take‘ em off their guard And we puts‘ em with the Empty Bottle-O!

So it's any “Empty bottles! Any empty bottle-O!” You can hear us round for a half a mile or so. And you'll see the women rushing To take in the Monday's washing

When they‘ ear us crying, “Empty Bottle-O!” I'm drivin’ down by Wexford-street and up a winder goes, A girl sticks out‘ er‘ ead and looks at me, An all-right tart with ginger‘ air, and freckles on‘ er nose;

I stops the cart and walks across to see. “There ai n't no bottles‘ ere,” says she, “since father took the pledge;” “No bottles‘ ere,” says I, “I'd like to know What right you‘ ave to stick your‘ ead outside the winder ledge,

If you‘ ave n't got no Empty Bottle-O!” I sometimes gives the‘ orse a spell, and then the push and me We takes a little trip to Chowder Bay. Oh! ai n't it nice the‘ ole day long a-gazin’ at the sea

And a-hidin’ of the tanglefoot away. But when the booze gits‘ old of us, and fellows starts to “scrap”, There's some what likes blue-metal for to throw: But as for me, I always says for layin’ out a “trap”

There's nothin’ like an Empty Bottle-O!