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list to a dismal story, |
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Oh, list to a mournful tale, |
Oh, list to me, Whig and Tory, |
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Oh, list to my woeful wail! |
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SIR GALAHAD was hale and hearty, |
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Extremely tall and bold and strong; |
Still with this exceptional party |
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Everything went always wrong: |
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Oh, whenever himself he treated |
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Oh, accidents would occur; |
Oh, where'er himself he seated, |
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Oh, somebody placed a spur. |
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Ever floored by clumsy coaches, |
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Someone always stole his DENT; |
In his bread he found cockroaches |
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Ever the chief ingredient! |
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Oh, shirts with a faithful button, |
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Oh, GALAHAD ne'er could find; |
Oh, whenever his coat he put on, |
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Oh, the collar stuck up behind. |
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When with hunger almost starving, |
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Toothache racked his temper hard — |
When a round of cold beef carving, |
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Ever forgot to use the guard. |
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Oh, orderly though behaving, |
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Oh, ever before the beak; |
Oh, when he attempted shaving, |
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Oh, horribly slashed his cheek. |
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When he drank 'twas always fated |
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He should overturn his cup; |
When in a company speculated, |
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Somebody came and wound it up. |
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Oh, making mistakes in talking; |
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Oh, prey to the merest thief; |
Oh, whenever in August walking, |
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O-mitted his handkerchief! |
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When he followed home a lady |
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(Which, I own, was hardly right), |
Always found she turned out shady — |
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Short of an eye or black as night! |
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Oh, ain't it a dismal story, |
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Oh, ain't it a mournful tale — |
Oh, isn't it, Whig and Tory, |
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Oh, ain't it a woeful wail! |
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