Uncle George became so nosey
Upon my golden backbone
Upon the summit of a hill
Whad’n earth would I do if I lived in Waddon?
What could be greener
What though my jaw be long and blue
When Aunty Jane
Where the little dunderhead
White mules at prayer! Ignore them. Turn to me
With a one, two, up!
113
76
59
23
24
202
150
184
124
176
Ye olde Ballade concerning ye yellow dwarfe of Battersea 35 You before me 26 You can never be sure of your Birron 24 You may think that he’s rather slow 84
242
