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!