L. Beach

A LAD came down from our town,

To view this woundy city,

And take a peep at all the tips,

Who look so mighty pretty.

Yankee Doodle, mind the dance,

Step it off so neatly,

To the pretty girls advance,

Smack their lippees sweetly.

He saw the pretty girls, I vags,

As Broadway street he stood in,

Tied up as tight in cotton bags

As mother’s Indian pudding.

Yankee Doodle—music strike,

Dancing now our trade is;

Did you ever see the like,

Pudding-bags on ladies.

He saw the pretty gentlemen,

You’ll see them every street in,

With little jackets o’er their coats,

And leather bags their feet in.

Yankee Doodle—pantaloons

Grow so high before, sir,

They’ve quarrel’d with the waistcoats all,

And turn’d them out of door, sir.