(To the Tune of "Old Solomon Levi")

Of all the places in this world, there's none can beat, you bet,
The terrace where the water lilies all keep dry, not wet.
Upon the fourth of last July I dined beyond my means,
And then the firecrackers cracked, and cracked my dish of beans.

CHORUS

He dinkety di do!
Hinkety kinkety wink!
He dinkety di do!
Blinkety! Blinkety! Blink!
When the beans are in the oven and when everything
doth smack
Of that hifalutin terrace where the firecrackers crack.

Little Johnny Jumper jumped one morning in the spring,
Little Johnny Jumper stole his sister's diamond ring,
Little Johnny Jumper jumped close to a deep, deep well;
Little Johnny Jumper jumped and found himself in Schenectady.

CHORUS.—
He dinkety, etc., etc.

One day I kicked my mother and she said, "Please, Alfred, don't."
My answer was, "Dear Mother, after this I think I won't.
The neighbours, should they see me, might think my conduct queer;
And so I promise never more to kick you, Mother dear."

CHORUS.—
He dinkety, etc., etc.

Little Tommy's upper teeth one morning got on edge,
Because he tried to bite the iron runner of a sledge.
His father said, "My bonnie lad, I'll have to make you thrill,
So contemplate the carpet while we practice bamboo drill."

CHORUS.—
He dinkety, etc., etc.

There lives a man in London town whose ears are dapple grey
In the early part of autumn, in the latter part of May;
And when the blazing sun comes out and everything doth freeze,
Instead of being dapple grey his ears are full of fleas.

CHORUS.—
He dinkety, etc., etc.

I know a charming fellow, his name is Abel Strong;
He is not very short, nor really could he be termed long.
His elbows have the jaundice, his brain is quite befogged,
His hair is full of mushrooms, and his neck is waterlogged.

CHORUS.—
He dinkety, etc., etc.

Myself and my friend, Jimmy Stick-in-the-mud, we don't like application;
We polish the sidewalks all day long in seeking recreation.
Two sons of the soil, we live without toil,
We feed like royal Turks;
We have good luck
In getting our chuck,
And to hell with the man that works.

CHORUS.—
He dinkety, etc., etc.

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