The song can also be found in Everybody's song book, or, The saloon visitor's companion : being a choice selection of new & favourite songs. I think this one is a bit more polished than the Alfred Williams transcription. I like it better.

THE MAN IN THE MOON

When a bumper is filled, tis vexing, no doubt,
To find when you'd fill that the wine has run out;
And 'tis surely an equally unpleasant thing,
To be asked for a song, when you've nothing to sing.
I might try something old, if an old one would do,
But the world it is craving to have something new,
And what to select for the words or the tune,
I in fact know no more than the Man in the Moon.
Ah! the Man in the Moon a new light on me throws,
He's a man we all talk of, but nobody knows,
And though a high subject, I'm getting in tune,
I'll just have a turn at the Man in the Moon.

The Man in the Moon seems to lead a queer life,
With no one about him, not even a wife;
No friends to console him, no children to kiss,
No chance of his joining a party like this.
His changing his lodging each quarter unpleasant,
Living first in a circus and then in a crescent;
If he rents by these quarters, so fast going by,
I should think he's rented uncommonly high;
But he's used to high life, for all circles agree,
None are moving in such a high circle as he—
For though nobles go up in a royal balloon,
They can't get introduced to the man in the moon.

'Tis thought that all madmen are moon-struck we find,
And the man in the moon may be out of his mind;
But it can't be for love, for 'tis very well known,
There's no girls there to meet him by moonlight alone;
It can't be ambition, for rivals he's none,
At least, he is only eclipsed by the sun;
Though his prospects are often o'erclouded he sees,
But the man in the moon can make light of all these.
In drinking, I fear, he may sometimes surpass,
For he always looks best when seen through a glass;
Then for smoking, though we may smoke morning and noon,
You can't blow a cloud like the man in the moon!

He's a mighty sad rake, he don't rise till it's dark,
And when the night sets in he sets out for a lark;
Goes mooning about and sings out to the spheres,—
“We won't go home till morning and daylight appears.”
He looks in at the stars that go shooting up there,
And lets loose the Dog Star to bait the Great Bear;
At the Milky-Way stops for a minute or two,
Has some milk, but don't pay, 'cos he swears it's sky blue.
But daylight soon takes the shine out of him quite,
And he goes home, and gets into bed by sunlight,
And though you may think him a regular spoon,
You'd be plagued to get over the Man in the Moon.