“ LAWRIE O’BROOM’S RAMBLES FROM
IRELAND TO SCOTLAND.
THE trade it is bad, now good people I hear;
⁠and my name it is Lawrie O’Broom, Sir,
My father he died, left me all that he had,
⁠t’was a good breeding sow and a loom, Sir. ”

“ And to my surprise laid me close on the sea,
I wish’d for the wings of a swallow to flee;
⁠What a tight bird was Lawrie O’Broom, Sir.
They hois’d me on board of a tight little smack,
⁠amongst a parcel of jovial gay fellows ”

“ I rous’d up my heart, and I sang Paddy Whack,
⁠as we steer’d o.’er the turbulent billows.
Till at length I got sea-sick, was ready to die,
And the meat in my belly was spung’d quite dry
Whilst I lay besmear’d like a pig in a stye;
⁠For a doctor cryed Lawrie O’Broom, Sir.
I bounc’d up on deck, to view Ireland once more,
⁠which was a dangerous risk of my neck, Sir. ”