Classic Poem

As Dermot toil'd one summer's day,
Young Shelah, as she sat behind him,
Fairly stole his pipe away —
Oh den to hear how she'd deride him.

Where, poor Dermot is it gone,
Your lily lily loodle?
They've left you nothing but the drone,
And that's yourself, you noodle.

Beum bum boodle, loodle lo,
Poor Dermot's pipe is lost and gone,
And what will the poor devil do?

II.

Fait, now I am undone and more,
Cry'd Dermot — ah will you be aesy?
Did not you stale my heart before?
Is it you'd have a man run crazy?

I've nothing left me now to moan,
My lily lily loodle,
That used to chear me so is gone —
Ah Dermot thou'rt a noodle.

Beum bum boodle, loodle lo,
My heart, and pipe, and peace are gone —
What next will cruel Shelah do?

III.

But shelah hearing Dermbt vex,
Cry'd she, 'twas little Cupid mov'd me,
Ye fool to steal it out of tricks,
Only to see how much you lov'd me.

Come cheer thee Dermot, never moan,
But take your lily loodle,
And for the heart of you that's gone,
You shall have mine, you noodle.

Beum bum boodle, loodle loo,
Shelah's to church with Dermot gone,
And for the rest — what's dat to you.