ONE OF
THE B'HOYS.
AIR.--Bold Rooster Boy.

I'm a B'hoy, I'm a B'hoy,
And my name it is Mose,
I'm ne'er so well pleased
As when playing my hose,
And which, with my engine,
I love better, I guess,
Than any thing else
On this world I possess.

I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy,
And a butcher by trade,
As I guess you will find,
I'm a pretty cute blade.
And to get up a muss,
Or a jolly good fight,
Is next to a fire, that
In which I most delight.

I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy,
Of the true New York breed,
On boiled pork and beans
I delight much to feed.
I've a gal that I love,
A gallows lass she is,
She can dance and can sing,
And her name it is Liz.

I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy,
With my engine I go,
And where'er there's a fire
Up the water I throw.
When evening it comes,
For the Bowery I start,
And take with me there
Liz,the gal of my heart.

I'm a b'hoy, I'm a b'hoy,
And as free as the air,
And there ne'er was a b'hoy
Who with me could compare.
I can fight, I can wrestle,
Know a trick or two;
It must be a cute cove
Whoe'er does me do.
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