Now, poor Johnny Lord and his mother were laid,
Both fainting and cold on the straw;
No doctors would come there unless they were paid,
Or compelled to be there by the law. 
No comforting word heard poor Mistress Lord,
As o’er her babe bending she sat,
And each one who saw it cried with one accord,
“What a little detestable brat.” 
Now, it seems very strange, &c.

The two babes became men as the years rolled away. 
And Lord John sported carriage and pair,
Whilst poor Johnny Lord working hard for poor pay,
Was content with what fell to his share. 
Lord John went to races, to balls and to routs,
And squandered his wealth with the gay,
Till at last came the reaper, and sought them both out,
And took Lord John and John Lord away. 
Now, it seems very strange, &c.

Very soon a grand monument stood o’er Lord John,
To show where the great man was laid,
But over John Lord was no mark and no stone,
It was left as when left by the spade. 
But the time yet shall come when John Lord and Lord John
Shall meet in the realms far away,
When the riches and titles of earth are all gone,
Then which will be greatest, friends, say? 
Then, though it seems strange, yet it’s true what you’ve heard,
And a lesson throughout it is cast,
Which should comfort the poor working men like John Lord,
For we all shall be equal at last.

As sooin as he’d finished quaverin on th’ last noat but one, ther wor sich a knockin o’ glasses an’ thump in o’ fists, wol th’ lonlady coom in agean, an’ th’ cheerman felt it his duty to order “as befoor,” which order th’ lonlady worn’t long i’ executin.  “Gooid lad!  Cocky!” sed Ike, “if aw’d a voice like thee aw’d travel!  Tawk abaat Sims Reeves!  He niver sang a song like that sin he wor creddled!  Nah Maister Cheerman, keep up th’ harmony, we’re mendin on it aw’m sure.  ’Gow, aw’ll have another pipe o’ bacca o’ th’ heead on it’ nay, raylee, aw niver did hear sich a song,” savin which he sat daan an’ hid his astonishment behund a claad o’ reek.

“Well,” sed th’ cheerman, “as Ike seems soa anxious, aw think he’d better try an’ let’s see what he con do.”  “Hear, hear!” on all sides, an’ two or three pulled him up whether he wod or net, an’ after a gooid deal o’ sidelin abaat, he axed if he mud have his cap on, for he could niver sing withaat cap.  “That’s to keep th’ mewsic throo flyin aght o’th’ top ov his heead,” sed one.  “Order!” sed th’ cheerman, “if Ike wants his cap on let him have it, may be he’ll loise th’ air withaat it.”

Ike luk’d very solid for a minit, an’ then he struck a lively tune in a voice abaat as musical as a saw sharpener.

   Let us have a jolly spree,
   An’ wi’ joy an’ harmonie,
   Let the merry moments flee,
      For mi love’s come back. 
   O, the days did slowly pass,
   When aw’d lost mi little lass,
   But nah we’ll have a glass,
      For mi love’s come back.