#02137
The Finnigan Lasses (Kenneth Peacock)
(Finikin Lass) (The Finical Lass)

When I was a boxing young fellow,
Just turning in twenty and four,
I married a handsome young lady,
As many have done before.
She was tenderly reared from her cradle,
And was in a boarding-school bred;
My sorrow begin to creep on me
The very first night I was wed.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

I purchased a good leg of mutton,
I told her to cook it for dinner
For feared of my new undertaking
'Twould make my jaws quickly grow thinner.
The potatoes she boiled in the dirt,
She skimmed off the fat with a fork,
She mistook the sand for oatmeal,
And spoiled all my mutton and broth.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

It happened on Christmas Eve
When I hadn't a keg of brown beer,
I invited a party of friends
For to come to me Christmas cheer.
I asked them to sit down to supper,
Good lack, how ashamed was I!
When a knobble I found in the custard
My shaving brush in a mince pie.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

When first I agreed with my landlord
My rent once a quarter to pay,
And three or four times a week
I could see him a comin' this way.
One night as I happened to watch her
Just as for a watch I was bent,
I catched her below in the cellar
Just as she was paying the rent.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

She's always a-reading of novels
Instead of repairing my clothes,
If her finger she chance for to soil
Like a rabbit she'll turn up her nose.
She washes her face once a week,
Her stockin's they are always down,
She lights up the fire with her gloves on,
And wipes the coals off in her gown.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

If ever she washes my shirt
She complains that her fingers is sore,
It happens 'bout once a month,
For her troubles she sets so much store.
If ever she irons a seam
I'd venture to wager a dollar
She singes both body and sleeves,
And she leaves half the dirt in the collar.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

When I comes home to my breakfast
I found her a-sleeping in bed,
Such antics I could not abide,
I wished in my heart she was dead.
With a basin of thin water gruel
She quickly got ready for me,
And when to my work I was gone,
For herself she got hot rolls and tea.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

There's another bad habit she has
That I had a-liked to forgot,
She never goes out to the privy,
She always makes use of the pot.
One night as I happened to catch her,
A candle stood by the bed-stead,
She stumbled and fell on the floor,
Broke the pot and set fire to the bed.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

Was there ever a mortal on earth
So plagued with a woman as I?
I'd give half the shoes in my shop
If I could persuade her to die.
Then I would be free from all care,
My time would so merrily pass,
I'd rather marry the devil
Than wed with a boarding-school lass.
So beware of the Finnigan lasses,
Don't never by beauty be led;
For the girls of all others surpasses,
A she that can work for her bread.

####.... Author unknown. Variant of an early 19th-century British broadside ballad, The Finical Lass, published by Stephenson, W (Gateshead); Lee, R (Hexham); Jobling, A (Sunderland); Rutherford, A (Sunderland) sometime between 1821 and 1838, and archived at the Bodleian Library Broadside Ballads, shelfmark: Harding B 11(1205) ....####
Collected by Kenneth Peacock in 1958 from Levi Everett Bennett [1899-?] of St Paul's, NL, and published in Songs Of The Newfoundland Outports, Volume 1, pp.270-271, by the National Museum Of Canada (1965) Crown Copyrights Reserved.

From The Free Dictionary:
Finikin - ¹ Precise in trifles; idly busy. ² Being fussy, pernickety, fastidious, squeamish or picky. ³ Being prim or prudish.
Knobble - small knob; circular rounded projection or protuberance.



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