English Poetry I: From Chaucer to Gray.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Henry Carey
277. Sally in our Alley
O
There’s none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
And through the streets does cry ’em;
Her mother she sells laces long
To such as please to buy ’em:
But sure such folks could ne’er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally!
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
I love her so sincerely;
My master comes like any Turk,
And bangs me most severely—
But let him bang his bellyfull,
I’ll bear it all for Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
I dearly love but one day—
And that’s the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday;
For then I’m drest all in my best
To walk abroad with Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
And often am I blamed
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as text is named;
I leave the church in sermon-time
And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
O then I shall have money;
I’ll hoard it up, and box it all,
I’ll give it to my honey;
I would it were ten thousand pound,
I’d give it all to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Make game of me and Sally,
And, but for her, I’d better be
A slave and row a galley;
But when my seven long years are out
O then I’ll marry Sally,—
O then we’ll wed, and then we’ll bed,
But not in our alley!