From PEARSON'S MAGAZINE 1900
 There was a youth of low degree,
No house or home... Alas! had he,
Nor any expectation.
He loved a maid of noble race,
With fortune equal to her face,
And won her approbation.
The damsel was demure and bland,
Her father, on the other hand,
A sneerer was and scoffer.
'My girl,' said he, 'this may not be
He has no house or home d'ye see,
No house or home to offer,
Alacca-Dey!
Tulura-Ley!
No house or home to offer.'

Nor house or home was his, in truth,
Yet dauntless still remained the youth, 
Nor showed the least dejection. 
Each night with tender songs would roam 
That youth around her house and home
(A handsome brick erection).
Each morn the maid, from five to six, 
Would carve her thanks on fifty bricks 
In dainty, girlish fashion.
And 'ere her Pa from bed did start,
She sent them by the milkman's cart
To tell her love and passion.
Alacca-Dey!
Tulura-Ley!
To tell her love and passion.

Their love increased... it grew so strong
That soon his very shortest song
Had ninety-seven verses.
And such a length her notes attained,
Through buying bricks she shortly drained
Her money-bags and purses.
So then you see, she had to fall,
To pulling down the garden-wall,
For want of better quarry.
And on the bricks in cuneiform,
She chipped, in phrases fond and warm...
How sad she felt and sorry.
Alacca-Dey!
Tulura-Dey!
How sad she felt and sorry.

The wash, the cow, the pidgeon-house,
'Ere long, as quiet as a mouse,
The noble girl demolished;
Then softly on the roof she got,
And chiselled on the chimney-pot
Remarks polite and polished.
But on a field across the way
The youth built up from day to day
The bricks he thus collected;
As fast as she demolished it,
Upon the meadow opposite
The house was re-erected.
Alacca-Dey!
Tulura-Dey!
The house was re-erected. 

Her chimney-pot was soon destroyed,
And tiles there-upon employed,
For love had made her artful;
And thus the roof of her abode
One morn was sent across the road
In one tremendous cartful.
Full soon, with loving hands and quick,
Her father's mansion, brick by brick,
She to the ground did level;
But he, returning from a trip,
Did stare and stamp, and crack his whip...
He also said, 'The Devil!'
Alacca-Dey!
Tulura-Ley! 
He also said, 'The Devil!'

'Am I of house and home bereft?
Is nothing but the staircase left...
The staircase to the cellar?
Then come and take my girl,' said he,
Unto that youth of low degree...
'Thou art a noble fellar.
My daughter loves thee well, my boy;
Her hand is thine, I wish thee joy.'
Thus said that ancient scoffer.
'Accept a father's blessing, pray,
Since now thou hast across the way
A house and home to offer.
Tulura-Ley!
Hee-Pippoo-Rey!
A house and home to offer.' 
The end