When a Jab grows old and its pots grow cold,
And the tips of its prop turn blue;
When it bends in the middle like a one-string fiddle,
It can tell you a tale or two.
So pull up a chair and stand me a drink,
And a tale to you I'll tell
About Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
And the aunt of Eskimo Nell.
When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Go forth in search of fun,
It's Dead-Eye Dick that swings the prop,
And Mexican Pete the gun.
When Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Are sore, depressed and sad,
It's always a Jab that raises the tab,
But the drinking not so bad.
Now Dead-Eye Dick and Mexican Pete
Lived down by Dead Man's Creek,
And such was their luck that they supped on muck
For nigh on half a week..........
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And the Aunt did curse the bloody fires are back in the garden