Henry Carey(1693?—1743)

Sally in Our Alley

Of all the girls that are so smart

　There's none like pretty Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

　And she lives in our alley.

There is no lady in the land

　Is half so sweet as Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

　And she lives in our alley.

Her father he makes cabbage-nets

　And through the streets does cry 'em;

Her mother she sells laces long

　To such as please to buy 'em:

But sure such folks could ne'er beget

　So sweet a girl as Sally!

She is the darling of my heart,

　And she lives in our alley.

When she is by, I leave my work,

　I love her so sincerely;

My master comes like any Turk^[1]

　And bangs me most severely—

But let him bang his bellyful,

I'll bear it all for Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

And she lives in our alley.

Of all the days that's in the week

I dearly love but one day—

And that's the day that comes betwixt

　A Saturday and Monday;

For then I'm drest all in my best

　To walk abroad with Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

　And she lives in our alley.

My master carries me to church,

　And often am I blamed

Because I leave him in the lurch

　As soon as text is named;

I leave the church in sermon-time

　And slink away to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

　And she lives in our alley.

When Christmas comes about again

　O then I shall have money;

I'll hoard it up, and box and all,

　I'll give it to my honey:

I would it were ten thousand pound,

　I'd give it all to Sally;

She is the darling of my heart,

　And she lives in our alley.