My name's Ted Blarney, I'll be bound,
And man and boy, upon this ground,
Full twenty years I've beat my round,
Crying-Vauxhall watch:

And as that time's a little short,
With some small folks that here resort,
To be sure I have not had some sport,
Crying Vauxhall watch.

Oh of pretty wenches drest so tight,
And macaronies what a sight,
Of a moonlight morn I've bid good night,
Crying Vauxhall watch.

II.

The lover cries no soul will see,
You are deceived my love, cries sfie,
Dare's that Irish taef there — meaning me —
Crying Vauxhall watch.

So they goes on with their amorous talk,
Till they gently steals to the dark walk,
While I steps aside, no sport to balk,
Crying Vauxhall watch.

Oh of pretty wenches, &c.