Now where may you be gadding to with such a dandy buttonhole —
If my eyes do not deceive me it's a sweetheart picotee,
And in your Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and bowler hat and all?
I'm going to Saint Andrew's Church, as surely you might see,
Watty Lee.
Ay, maybe!

Though it's well enough on Sundays for the folk who've got naught else to do,
The church on weekday mornings is no place for you or me
Who've got our bread and cheese to earn; so what can you be after, Dick?
I'm going to be married there, as surely you might see,
Watty Lee.
Ay, maybe!

Then you don't know where you're going, Dick, for all your dandy buttonhole,
No more than any other lad who sports a picotee
And dons his Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes and bowler hat and all
You're surely hard of hearing or your wits are all at sea,
Watty Lee.