[from Collected Works, T.E.Brown]
STORIES ! stories ! nothin but stories
Spinnin away to the height of your glories!
And if I must, I suppose I must,
And you suspectin, I wouldn trust,1
And sittin there all the time, and thinkin
Is it true hes tellin ? and nudgin and winkin.
Now, bless my soul ! what for would I go
To tell you lies ? Youre foolish though!
And theres odds of lies, for the matter of that,
For theres lies thats skinny, and lies thats fat
And lies in fustian, and lies in silk,
And lies like verjuice, and lies like milk;
And lies thats free, and lies for sale,
And rumpy lies, without a tail;
Grew in the garden and picked in the woods,
Bubbles blew with the divils suds;
Lies thats sweet, and lies with a stink at 2 them;
Lies like the dew thatll go if you wink at them,
And some as hard you couldn break them
With a sledge 3aw, my lad knows well how to make them!
Haven he got the tools to his hand
Down there ? And the fire ! Aw, he works them grand!
For it isn every fool thats fit
To make a rael good lie, thatll sit
On her keel, and answer her helmno ! no!
Just try it, Bob ! Just try it though
Well put together ! youre took on the sudden?
You couldn ? Didnt I tell ye ye couldn?
1 I rather think. 2 To. 3 Hammer.