You all have heard of Wapping Ned,
Vot never vops his Neddy,
But gives him hay, and cries ‘gee vo!’
So clever and so steady.
But tho’ he gives him corn and hay,
Yet still I will repeat it,
If he gives the creetur lots o’ grub,
He don’t give him time to eat it.
I never sarves a hanimal so,
’Cause that I thinks below me,
But if I had a donkey vot vouldn’t go,
If I voud’nt vollop him–blow me?

Ned says he hates all cruelty,
And is uncommonly kind, sirs;
But this I stoutly do deny,
His vords are like the vind, sirs.
He cannot be so wery kind,
According to my thinking;
For he regularly half-starves his kids,
And vops his vife like vinking.
I never sarves a lady so, &c.

I’d ax his Ned, if it could speak,
Vhy it is he vill not go, sirs,
And vhy he looks so poor and veak,
And moves along so slow, sirs.
And vhy his precious ribs, they looks
Like hoops around a tub, sirs:
I’d bet a crown, if it could speak,
He’d say ’tvas vant of grub, sirs.
I never sarves a hanimal so, &c.

Ned’s wife pull’d him the other day,
When he was going to hide her,
And vot did then his vorship say?
Vhy he only did deride her.
Says he I really must confess,
Your case is rather queer, marm:
But you’d best go home and make it up
’Cause I can’t interfere, marm.
I never sarves a lady so, &c.

Says she—if this you justice call,
You are a set of rum uns,
You gives me no redress at all,
And makes me pay the summons.
A man for beating his ass gets fined,
And blowed up for the action,
But a poor voman she gets vopt stone blind
And gets no satisfaction.
I never sarves a lady so, &c.

Now all you chaps vot sports a moke,
Vhene’er you takes a ride out,
Never fear but he vill go,
If you only blows his hide out.
Give the creetur lots of hay,
As much as he can chump off,
And then if he vont cut away,
Vhy—cut his precious rump off.
I never sarves a hanimal so, &c.