Catches, canons and drinking songs

to your rude health,

Text: “I’ll tell my mother,” my Jenny cries,‥


“I’ll tell my mother,” my Jenny cries,
and then a poor languishing lover dies,
but ye faith I believe the gypsy lies,
for all she is so grave and wise,
oh! she longs to be tickled.

Songs with this text:

Version 8e32e8d8d4ff87611fd1ef7b6f028a335f89012d (2021-10-22T17:00:34+01:00)