THE LINER she’s a lady, an’ she never looks nor ’eeds— The Man-o’-War’s ’er ’usband, an’ ’e gives ’er all she needs; But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun’, They’re just the same as you an’ me a-plyin’ up an’ down!
Plyin’ up an’ down, Jenny, ’angin’ round the Yard,
All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth ’Ard; Anythin’ for business, an’ we’re growin’ old— Plyin’ up an’ down, Jenny, waitin’ in the cold!
The Liner she’s a lady by the paint upon ’er face,
The Liner she’s a lady, and ’er route is cut an’ dried;
The Liner she’s a lady, and if a war should come,
The Liner she’s a lady, but if she wasn’t made,
’Ome an’ friends so dear, Jenny, ’angin’ round the Yard,
All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth ’Ard; Anythin’ for business, an’ we’re growin’ old— ’Ome an’ friends so dear, Jenny, waitin’ in the cold! |