“THE BANJO.”
Reading edition
Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, ling, Ting-a-ling, ling. Under the window, Down in the street, Little brown curly head, Little bare feet; Pleadingly lifted, Slumberous eyes, Thrumming, fingering, Nimble hand flies. Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, ling, Ting-a-ling, ling. Song of the Southland Over the sea, Sing, little Napolese, Sing to me. “Beautiful Southland Over the sea, Gayly and gladly Sing I of thee! Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, So will I sing, And so will I sing. “Purple the mountains, Purple the wines, Sunny the hill-slopes Clad with vines; Sunny the skies are, Balmy the air, Time floateth dreamily, Dreamily there. Tirra, la, la, la! Tirra, la, la, Viva, viva, Italia!” Tattered cap held for The pennies dropped down; Off he goes wandering Over the town, Thrumming, fingering—, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, Ting-a-ling-a-ling, ling, Ting, ling, ling.