King By Edgar Albert Guest

King

GIUSEPPE TOMASSI ees stylisha chap,
He wear da white collar an’ cuff,
He says: ‘For expanse I no giva da rap,
Da basta ees not good enough.’
When out weeth hees Rosa he wear da silk hat,
An’ carry da cane lik’ da lord;
He spenda hees money lik’ dees, an’ lik’ dat,
For Giuseppe, he work at da Ford.

He smoke da seegar wit da beega da band,
Da tree-for-da-quart’ ees da kind,
Da diamond dat flash from da back of hees hand
Ees da beegest Giuseppe could find.
He dress up hees Rosa in satin an’ lace,
She no longer scrub at da board,
But putta da paint on da leeps an’ da face,
For Giuseppe, he work at da Ford.

Giuseppe, ees strutta about lik’ da keeng,
An’ laugh at da hard-worka man
Who grinda da org’ a few neekles to bring
Or sella da ripa banan’.
Each morning he waxa da blacka moustache
Then walk up an’ down through da ward;
You batta he gotta da playnta da cash,
For Giuseppe, he work at da Ford.

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