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The
Ballad of the Lucky MacThoy
Gather near and I'll tell you a tale,
The tale of Lucky MacThoy
He was a lad both hearty and hale
But a most unfortunate boy
He
laid on heavy with wenches and drink
He got himself in a fix
This was prodigious, as any would think
For a stripling of only but six
Lucky
MacThoy, Lucky MacThoy
Your tale is tragic but true
You fall afoul of the fates dear boy
At everything you do!
That
night at crown we witnessed his countenance
'Ere through a glass bottom cup
Tit over biscuit he fell in the fire
and later on he threw up
He
busted his braces while spearing a beer
And went blind in one of his eyes
His kinsmen will claim that his luck has
increased
upon the day that he dies
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Lucky
MacThoy, Lucky MacThoy
Your tale is tragic but true
You fall afoul of the fates dear boy
At everything you do!
Somehow he got a vessel of wine
Tied up in his curly locks
Yes, we will all say his luck has improved
when he lies down to sleep in a box
On
his way home, his charger was ill
So ill that it quite nearly died
They hauled it away in a cartful of hay
"How am I so lucky?" he cried
Lucky
MacThoy, Lucky MacThoy
Your tale is tragic but true
You fall afoul of the fates dear boy
At everything you do!
--details
supplied by
Laird Og, extracted from
the "Bathroom Booke: Fit The Seventh."
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