You never catch him sittin’ still, he’s just the rovin’ kind,
Altho’ he’s just a little boy, he’s got a grown-up mind.
He’s always got a shaggy dog a-pullin’ at his clothes,
And everybody calls to him as down the street he goes.
Harry got up
Dressed all in black
Went down to the station
And he never came back
They found his clothing
Scattered somewhere down the track
And he won’t be down on Wall Street
in the morning