No wonder that butter be a shilling a pound,
Seeing the rich farmers' daughters how they ride up and down
If you ask them the reason they'll say, “Oh alas!
There's a French war, and the cows have no grass.”
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
O the next is a publican, I must bring him in,
He charges four pence a quart - he thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, the measure is short:
The top of the pot is popped off with the froth.
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
Now the very best plan that I can find
Is to puff them all off in a high gale of wind
And when they get up, the cloud it will burst,
And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first.
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
Seeing the rich farmers' daughters how they ride up and down
If you ask them the reason they'll say, “Oh alas!
There's a French war, and the cows have no grass.”
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
O the next is a publican, I must bring him in,
He charges four pence a quart - he thinks it no sin.
When he do bring it in, the measure is short:
The top of the pot is popped off with the froth.
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
Now the very best plan that I can find
Is to puff them all off in a high gale of wind
And when they get up, the cloud it will burst,
And the biggest old rascal come tumbling down first.
Singing, honesty's all out of fashion
These are the rigs of the time,
Time, my boys
These are the rigs of the time.
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