The Little Old Duddeen - song lyrics 
American Old-time song lyrics from www.traditionalmusic.co.uk 
THE LITTLE OLD DUDDEEN Sung by Harrigan and Hart. 
There's a bit of clay on a little stim, That's sweet enough to ate; Whin filled up wid tobacco Twould put a man to slape. Twas introduced in Ireland In the days of Brian Borhue; I'd rather lose my life, my boys, Than lose my honey-dew. Some call it "Cavendish," Or any name you'd wish, And they dale it out in plug, you know, When it is fresh and green; When from my work I tire, I set down by the fire, An' I watch the smoke roll up and curl, From my little ould duddeen. 
Chorus. My duddeen, you are so sweet to me, I love to see your smoke go up Whin I get through my tea; My duddeen, you are in the family, I'd surely die if I found out You were stole away from me. 
If ye have studied history, Ye'll read where William Pinn Bought the State of Pinnsylvania Prom the wild red Injin men; He never used a sword or gun When he met them face to face, But they all sit down continted, And they smoked the pipe of peace. If yc'd only take a puff, Shure, one would be enough To put you in a slumber, A stupor, or a dream. Ye might say it's not ginteel, But so beautiful I feel Whin I sit down in the corner, boys, Wid my little ould duddeen.-Chorus, 
A Frenchman smokes the little thing They call the cigarette, It makes him feel uneasy, As he blows, and puffs, and frets; The Chinese smokes the opium, Till it puts him in a doze; And the Yankee smokes the bad cigar, Wid one end to his nose; But every Irishman-Bould Patsey, Mike or Dan-That was born in dear old Ireland, Where the grasses grow so green, If they've no coat to their back, 
They've that bit of clay so black; It's a consolation to them, Is the little ould duddeen.-Chorus.