Here's another one from the American Memory Collection - another one without a tune.

GOOSE HANGS HIGH

The fast young man of fashion, how he spreads upon the street,
And gazes at the ladies and their pretty pink feet;
He curls up his mustachios and winks upon the sly,
Crying "every thing is lovely, and the goose hangs high."

The soft romantic lady, when she feels the singe of love,
She thinks her dear Augustus is an angel from above;
"With my 'Gustus,' in a cottage," says she, "I'd live and die,
For every thing is lovely, and the goose hangs high."

Sensation politicians, when they mount the boards,
They tickle up the voters, calling them creation's lords;
Crying out, "Dear fellow-citizens, for you I'm here to die,"
For they see a good fat office, and the goose hangs high.

A lover sits a courting with a cautious maid,
He asks her to sit closer, but she seems to be afraid;
She says, "My mother tells me of lovers to be shy,
When they all get too loving, and the goose hangs high."

A lady and her husband in a "secession" row
They both "coerce," talk of divorce, and split the padlock vow.
She has a fit, they pout a bit, then at each other sigh,
Till every thing looks lovely, and the goose hangs high.

I've sung to you about the goose, on that thing and this,
I hope she'll clap her good old wings, but not upon me hiss,
And if I've proved a good egg, and a smile brought to your eye,
Why every thing is lovely, and the goose hangs high.

Johnson, Song Publisher, Stationer & Printer, No. 7 N. Tenth St., 3 doors above Market, Phila.