Love of God Shave A barber kept a razor Full of notches and rust To shave the poor divils Who came there for trust. It happened a poor Irishman Was passing that way, Whose beard had been growing For many a day. He looked at the barber And then lay down his hod, Saying,"Can you trust me a shave For the love-sake of God?" He picked up the razor Full of notches and rust He kept to shave the poor divils Who came there for trust. "Ouch, murther," says Pat, "Now leave off with your tricks And don't share any more.' And Paddy he bolted straight out of the door! Saying,"You may lather and shave Your friends till you're sick, But, be-jabers, I'd rather Be shaved with a brick." A few days after, as Paddy Was passing the door, When a jackass he kicked up A turrible roar. "Ouch, murther," says Pat, "Just listen to the knave, He's giving some other poor divil A love-of-God shave!" From Ballads and Songs, Belden Collected from Homer Coffman, 1933 DT #526 Laws Q15 RG oct96
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!