I ain't the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job; br I drives me bottle cart around the town; br A bloke what keeps 'is eyes about can always make a bob -- br I couldn't bear to graft for every brown. br There's lots of handy things about in everybody's yard, br There's cocks and hens a-runnin' to an' fro, br And little dogs what comes and barks -- we take 'em off their guard br And we puts 'em with the Empty Bottle-O! br br Chorus -- br So it's any "Empty bottles! Any empty bottle-O!" br You can hear us round for half a mile or so br And you'll see the women rushing br To take in the Monday's washing br When they 'ear us crying, "Empty Bottle-O!" br br I'm driving down by Wexford-street and up a winder goes, br A girl sticks out 'er 'ead and looks at me, br An all-right tart with ginger 'air, and freckles on 'er nose; br I stops the cart and walks across to see. br "There ain't no bottles 'ere," says she, "since father took the pledge," br "No bottles 'ere," says I, "I'd like to know br What right 'ave you to stick your 'ead outside the winder ledge, br If you 'aven't got no Empty Bottle-O!" br I sometimes gives the 'orse a spell, and then the push and me br We takes a little trip to Chowder Bay. br Oh! ain't it nice the 'ole day long a-gazin' at the sea br And a-hidin' of the tanglefoot away.