Little Willie’s Woodbines

Little Billy Williams found a penny in a garden
One fine summer's day,
And as little Billy never had more than a 'farden',
He said, 'Hip-hoo-ray!'
Then passing a tobacconist's where cigarettes were sold,
There he beheld some little packets, coloured green and gold.
Then Billy said, 'Although I'm only six, I'll be a sport.'
He toddled in that bacca shop and this is what he bought:

Five little fags in a dainty little packet,
Five cigarettes that cost one D.
Five little pains underneath his jacket,
Five wobbles in his little Mary,
Five little whiffs and in five little jiffs
He was rolling in the tramway lines,
Wishing he could touch the cable,
Looking greener than the label
Of little Billy's wild Woodbines.

When he puffed the first one he said, 'This don't seem a good'un!
The next might be all right.'
When he lit the second he said, 'Wish I'd bought plum-pudden,
Else a paper kite.'
I never thought the world went round,' he murmered at the third,
'But now I've seen it dancing I can take my teacher's word.'
Then at the fourth he felt so bad, he hic-cup'd with a frown,
'Grub ain't so nice a-coming up as when it's going down.'

Five little fags in a dainty little packet,
Five cigarettes that cost one D.
Five little pains underneath his jacket,
Five wobbles in his little Mary,
Five little whiffs and in five little jiffs
He was rolling in the tramway lines,
Sadly saying, 'Close the shutter,
Billy's dead but do not utter
A word of Billy's wild Woodbines.

Little Billy Williams he lay flatter than a flounder,
Full of miseree.
Suddenly along the road came P.C. Binns, the bounder,
'What's up here?' said he.
Then lighting up his bulls-eye, it disclosed the shocking fact,
That Billy had been smoking right against the latest act.
He picked up all the evidence, those half-smoked woodbines four,
And scowled as little Billy said, 'Please sir, I've got one more.'

One little fag in a dainty little packet,
One cigarette that cost one D.
One little pain underneath his jacket,
One wobble in his little Mary,
One little whiff and in one little jiff
While he lay upon the tramway line,
Poor little Billy felt like dying,
And that policeman, he was crying,
But that copper pinched his last Woodbine.