The morning meal is past—the next is coming fast—

’Twill bring me a bill that I know I can not pay,

For meats, both fat and lean, that I was jolly green

To trust beside that old dog Tray.

Old dog Tray! always hungry—

Meat can not drive him away;

With his tail “druv” in behind, neither gentle nor yet kind

Is that hungry dog, that old dog Tray.

I hurried home one night, with a rousing appetite,

For nothing had I tasted the whole of that long day.

But Oh! how I was done—not a thing was left but bone—

All eaten by that old dog Tray.

Old dog Tray, &c.

The steaks I thought my own, had vanish’d one by one—

Those cutlets, those chops too, had all pass’d away;

Those tenderloins were gone—they each and all had flown—

Stolen by that old dog Tray.

Old dog Tray, &c.

With naught to break my fast, my eyes on Tray I cast,

Who look’d as though he felt what my breaking heart would say;

But oh! ’twas all deceit—’twas he who stole my meat,

That hungry dog, that old dog Tray.

Old dog Tray, &c.