Classic Poem

This here day, it be fair day,
And the lads be all on the green;
And the booths and the shows all standing in rows,
With the cocoa-nut shies between.
There's roundabouts, and the showmen's shouts,
And fiddlers all through the town;
And your heart goes up, lad,
But my heart goes down.

The boxing-booths be full of youths,
And the market a prickle o' horns,
And chap after chap climbs up to the trap
Where a doctor's cutting their corns.
You hear the sound of the merry-go-round,
And you see how the boats are swung;
And your songs are to sing, lad,
But my song be sung.

There's flying leaps, and there's picture-peeps,
And a lion as none can tame;
And, added to that, a lady so fat
Her weight you never could name.
'Tis a jolly day for a holiday,
And that I don't deny;
But your days are to come, lad,
And my days' gone by.

And everywhere the fun of the fair
You can buy in ha'penny squirts;
And like a boy you make it a joy
To spatter the hats and skirts;
And each girl squeals to show she feels
It's a treat to be treated so;
Ah! your spirits be up, lad;
But my spirits be low!

I don't think as I used to think,
Nor do as I used to do;
But I still can drink as I used to drink,
A darned sight better than you!
You care a lot for the pewter pot,
But you're only the rag-tag sort;
A pint of stuff for you is enough,
But I'm for the double quart!