While The Billy BoilsSearchI ain’t the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job; I drives me bottle cart around the town;A bloke what keeps ’is eyes about can always make a bob— I couldn’t bear to graft for every brown.There’s lots of handy things about in everybody’s yard, There’s cocks and hens a-runnin’ to an’ fro,And little dogs what comes and barks—we take ’em off their guard And we puts ’em with the Empty Bottle-O!
Chorus—
So it’s any “Empty bottles! Any empty bottle-O!” You can hear us round for a half a mile or so. And you’ll see the women rushing To take in the Monday’s washing When they ’ear us crying, “Empty Bottle-O!”
I’m drivin’ down by Wexford-street and up a winder goes, A girl sticks out ’er ’ead and looks at me,An all-right tart with ginger ’air, and freckles on ’er nose; I stops the cart and walks across to see.“There ain’t no bottles ’ere,” says she, “since father took the pledge;” “No bottles ’ere,” says I, “I’d like to knowWhat right you ’ave to stick your ’ead outside the winder ledge, If you ’aven’t got no Empty Bottle-O!”
I sometimes gives the ’orse a spell, and then the push and me We takes a little trip to Chowder Bay.Oh! ain’t it nice the ’ole day long a-gazin’ at the sea And a-hidin’ of the tanglefoot away.But when the booze gits ’old of us, and fellows starts to “scrap”, There’s some what likes blue-metal for to throw:But as for me, I always says for layin’ out a “trap” There’s nothin’ like an Empty Bottle-O!