When I was a nipper, only six months old, my mother and my father too,
They didn't know what to wean me on, they were both in a dreadful stew.
They thought of tripe, they thought of steak, or a little bit of old cod's roe,
Ma said, "Pop round to the old cook shop, I know what'll make him grow:

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Boiled beef and carrots, boiled beef and carrots.
That's the stuff for your 'Darby Kell', makes you fat, and it keeps you well.
Don't live like vegetarians, on food they give to parrots,
From morn till night, blow out your 'kite' on boiled beef and carrots!

We've got a lodger, he's an artful cove, "I'm very very queer ", he said.
We sent for the doctor, he came round, And he told him to jump in bed.
The poor chap said, "I do feel bad," then my mother with a tear replied,
"What would you like for a 'pick-me-up'?" He jumped out of bed and cried:

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I am the father of a lovely pair of kiddies, and they're nice fat boys.
They're twins, you can't tell which is which, Like a pair of saveloys.
We had them christened in the week. When the parson put them on his knee,
I said, "As they've got ginger hair, now I want their names to be:

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