Be aisy an' list to a chune <br />That's sung of bowld Tim the Dragoon— <br />Sure, 'twas he'd niver miss <br />To be stalin' a kiss, <br />Or a brace, by the light of the moon— <br />Aroon— <br />Wid a wink at the Man in the Moon! <br />Rest his sowl where the daisies grow thick; <br />For he's gone from the land of the quick: <br />But he's still makin' love <br />To the leddies above, <br />An' be jabbers! he'll tache 'em the thrick— <br />Avick— <br />Niver doubt but he'll tache 'em the thrick! <br />'Tis by Tim the dear saints'll set sthore, <br />And 'ull thrate him to whisky galore: <br />For they 've only to sip <br />But the tip of his lip <br />An' bedad! they'll be askin' for more— <br />Asthore— <br />By the powers, they'll be shoutin' 'Ancore!'<br /><br />Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tim-the-dragoon/
