I've eyed me a little dog, his color it was brown, I taught him to whistle, to sing, dance and run.
His legs they were fourteen yards long, his ears they were brown, around the world in half a day, I knew I could lie.
Sing, Tattletail, I've eyed me a little bull, about four inches high, and everyone did fear him,
that ever did hear him cry. When he began to bellow, it made such melodious sound, that all the halls of London come tumbling to the ground.
Sing, Tattletail, I've eyed me a flock of sheep, I thought they were all weathered, sometimes they yielded fleece, sometimes they yielded feathers.
I think mine are the very best, for yielding me increase, for every fall and change of the moon, they yield both lambs and geese.
Sing, Tattletail, I've eyed me a little box, about four acres square, I filled it with silver, and guineas are so rare,
and now I'm bound for Turkey, and I'll travel hikin' hops, and in my riches pocket, I'll carry my little box.
Sing, Tattletail, I've eyed me a little hen, all speckled brown and fair, he set her on an oyster shell, she hatched me out of hair,
the hair it sprang into a horse of fifteen hands full high, and him who tells a bigger tale, would have to tell a lie. Sing, Tattletail.
Thank you.