ONE OF THE B'HOYS. I'm a B'hoy, I'm a B'hoy, And my name it is Mose, I'm ne'er so well pleased As when playing my hose, And which, with my engine, I love better, I guess, Than any thing else On this world I possess. I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy, And a butcher by trade, As I guess you will find, I'm a pretty cute blade. And to get up a muss, Or a jolly good fight, Is next to a fire, that In which I most delight. I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy, Of the true New York breed, On boiled pork and beans I delight much to feed. I've a gal that I love, A gallows lass she is, She can dance and can sing, And her name it is Liz. I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy, With my engine I go, And where'er there's a fire Up the water I throw. When evening it comes, For the Bowery I start, And take with me there Liz,the gal of my heart. I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy, And as free as the air, And there ne'er was a b'hoy Who with me could compare. I can fight, I can wrestle, Know a trick or two; It must be a cute cove Whoe'er does me do. Is that one of them?
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