| |
| OF all the girls that are so smart | |
| There’s none like pretty Sally; | |
| She is the darling of my heart, | |
| And she lives in our alley. | |
| There is no lady in the land | 5 |
| Is half so sweet as Sally; | |
| She is the darling of my heart, | |
| And she lives in our alley. | |
| |
| Her father he makes cabbage-nets | |
| And through the streets does cry ’em; | 10 |
| Her mother she sells laces long | |
| To such as please to buy ’em: | |
| But sure such folks could ne’er beget | |
| So sweet a girl as Sally! | |
| She is the darling of my heart, | 15 |
| And she lives in our alley. | |
| |
| When she is by, I leave my work, | |
| I love her so sincerely; | |
| My master comes like any Turk, | |
| And bangs me most severely— | 20 |
| But let him bang his bellyfull, | |
| I’ll bear it all for Sally; | |
| She is the darling of my heart, | |
| And she lives in our alley. | |
| |
| Of all the days that’s in the week | 25 |
| I dearly love but one day— | |
| And that’s the day that comes betwixt | |
| A Saturday and Monday; | |
| For then I’m drest all in my best | |
| To walk abroad with Sally; | 30 |
| She is the darling of my heart, | |
| And she lives in our alley. | |
| |
| My master carries me to church, | |
| And often am I blamed | |
| Because I leave him in the lurch | 35 |
| As soon as text is named; | |
| I leave the church in sermon-time | |
| And slink away to Sally; | |
| She is the darling of my heart, | |
| And she lives in our alley. | 40 |
| |
| When Christmas comes about again | |
| O then I shall have money; | |
| I’ll hoard it up, and box it all, | |
| I’ll give it to my honey; | |
| I would it were ten thousand pound, | 45 |
| I’d give it all to Sally; | |
| She is the darling of my heart, | |
| And she lives in our alley. | |
| |
| My master and the neighbours all | |
| Make game of me and Sally, | 50 |
| And, but for her, I’d better be | |
| A slave and row a galley; | |
| But when my seven long years are out | |
| O then I’ll marry Sally,— | |
| O then we’ll wed, and then we’ll bed, | 55 |
| But not in our alley! | |
| |
