Mr. Orator PUFF had two tones in his voice, The one squeaking thus, and the other down so; In each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice, For one half was B alt, and the rest G below. O! O! Orator Puff, One voice for an orator ’s surely enough. But he still talked away, spite of coughs and of frowns, So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs, That a wag once, on hearing the orator say, “My voice is for war!” asked, “Which of them, pray?” O! O! Orator Puff, etc. Reeling homeward one evening, top-heavy with gin, And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown, He tripped near a saw-pit, and tumbled right in, “Sinking fund” the last words as his noddle came down. O! O! Orator Puff, etc. “Good Lord!” he exclaimed, in his he-and-she tones, “HELP ME OUT! Help me out! I have broken my bones!” “Help you out?” said a Paddy who passed, “what a bother! Why, there ’s two of you there—can’t you help one another?” O! O! Orator Puff, One voice for an orator ’s surely enough.
Orator Puff
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