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So goodbye,
Mrs. Brown,
I am going out of town,
Over dale,
over down,
Where bugs bite not,
Where lodgers
fight not,
Where below your chairmen drink not,
Where beside your gutters stink not;
But all is
fresh and clean and gay,
And merry lambkins sport
and play,
And they toss with rakes uncommonly short
hay,
Which looks as if it had been sown only the
other day,
And where oats are twenty-five shillings
a boll, they say;
But all's one for that, since I
must and will away.
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