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Musa Pedestris - Three Centuries of Canting Songs by John S. Farmer

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Or a ticker deftly prig:-- [21]
But if ever a pal in limbo fell, [22]
He'd sooner be scragg'd at once than tell; [23]
Though the hum-box patterer talked of hell, [24]
And the beak wore his nattiest wig. [25]

[1: police spy; share of the booty]
[2: house was burgled]
[3: gentlemanly]
[4: police-officers]
[5: Old Bailey pleaders]
[6: prison]
[7: gunpowder, hand dextrous at thieving]
[8: thieves]
[9: double-barrelled gun]
[10: drink freely]
[11: brandy]
[12: depart]
[13: fire]
[14: transported]
[15: hanging [hearty choke]]
[16: burglary]
[17: houses]
[18: steal; handkerchief]
[19: skilful]
[20: pass false notes]
[21: watch]
[22: prison]
[24: parson]
[25: magistrate; handsomest]

"THE FAKING BOY TO THE CRAP IS GONE" [Notes]
[1841]

[By BON GAULTIER in _Tait's Edinburgh Magazine_].

I

The faking boy to the crap is gone, [1]
At the nubbing-cheat you'll find him; [2]
The hempen cord they have girded on,
And his elbows pinned behind him.
"Smash my glim," cries the reg'lar card, [3]
"Though the girl you love betrays you,
Don't split, but die both game and hard,
And grateful pals shall praise you."

II

The bolt it fell,--a jerk, a strain!
The sheriff's fled asunder;
The faking-boy ne'er spoke again,
For they pulled his legs from under.
And there he dangles on the tree,
That sort of love and bravery!
Oh, that such men should victims be
Of law, and law's vile knavery.

[1: pickpocket; gallows]
[2: gallows]
[3: blast my eyes!]

THE NUTTY BLOWEN [Notes]
[1841]

[By BON GAULTIER in _Taits Edinburgh Magazine_].

I

She wore a rouge like roses, the night when first we met,
Her lovely mug was smiling o'er mugs of heavy wet; [1]
Her red lips had the fullness, her voice the husky tone,
That told her drink was of a kind where water is unknown.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the bloom of borrowed flowers upon her cheek and brow.

II

A pair of iron darbies, when next we met, she wore, [2]
The expression of her features was more thoughtful than before;
And, standing by her side, was he who strove with might and main
To soothe her leaving that dear land she ne'er might see again.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
As she dropped the judge a curtsey, and he made her a bow.

III

And once again I see that brow no idle rouge is there,
The dubsman's ruthless hand has cropped her once luxurious hair; [3]
She teases hemp in solitude, and there is no one near,
To press her hand within his own, and call for ginger-beer.
I saw her but a moment, yet methinks I see her now,
With the card and heckle in her hand, a-teasing of that tow.

[1: face; porter]
[2: handcuffs]
[3: gaoler's]

THE FAKER'S NEW TOAST [Notes]
[1841]

[By BON GAULTIER ("Nimming Ned") in _Tait's Edinburgh Magazine_]

I

Come, all ye jolly covies, vot faking do admire, [1]
And pledge them British authors who to our line aspire;
Who, if they were not gemmen born, like us had kicked at trade,
And every one had turned him out a genuine fancy blade, [2]
And a trump.

II

'Tis them's the boys as knows the vorld, 'tis them as knows mankind,
And vould have picked his pocket too, if Fortune (vot is blind)
Had not to spite their genius, stuck them in a false position,
Vere they can only write about, not execute their mission,
Like a trump.

III

If they goes on as they're begun, things soon will come about,
And ve shall be the upper class, and turn the others out;
Their laws ve'll execute ourselves, and raise their hevelation,
That's tit for tat, for they'd make that the only recreation
Of a trump.

IV

But ketch us! only vait a bit, and ve shall be their betters;
For vitch our varmest thanks is due unto the men of letters,
Who, good 'uns all, have showed us up in our own proper light,
And proved ve prigs for glory, and all becos it's right [3]
In a trump.

V

'Tis ve as sets the fashion: Jack Sheppard is the go [4]
And every word of 'Nix my dolls' the finest ladies know;
And ven a man his vortin'd make, vy, vot d'ye think's his vay?
He does vot ve vere used to do--he goes to Botany Bay
Like a trump.

VI

Then fill your glasses, dolly palls, vy should they be neglected,
As does their best to helewate the line as ve's selected?
To them as makes the Crackman's life, the subject of their story, [5]
To Ainsworth, and to Bullvig, and to Reynolds be the glory, [6]
Jolly trumps.

[1: fellows; stealing]
[2: pickpocket]
[3: steal]
[4: fashion]
[5: burglar's]
[6: Notes]

MY MOTHER [Notes]
[1841]

[By BON GAULTIER in _Tait's Edinburgh Magazine_].

I

Who, when a baby, lank and thin,
I called for pap and made a din,
Lulled me with draughts of British gin?--
My mother.

II

When I've been out upon the spree,
And not come home till two or three,
Who was it then would wallop me?--
My mother.

III

Who, when she met a heavy swell, [1]
Would ease him of his wipe so well, [2]
And kiss me not to go and tell ?--
My mother.

IV

Who took me from my infant play,
And taught me how to fake away.
And put me up to the time of day?-- [3]
My mother.

V

Who'd watch me sleeping in my chair,
And slily to my fob repair, [4]
And leave me not a mopus there?-- [5]
My mother.

VI

Who, as beneath her care I grew,
Taught my young mind a thing or two,
Especially the flats to do?-- [6]
My mother.

VII

I'm blessed if ever I did see,
So regular a trump as she:
I own my virtues all to thee,--
My mother.

VIII

So hand, my pals, the drink about,
My story and my glass are out,
A bumper, boys, and with me shout--
My mother.

[1: well-dressed man]
[2: handkerchief]
[3: made me cunning]
[4: pocket]
[5: penny]
[6: stupid ones]

THE HIGH-PADS FROLIC [Notes]
[1841]

[By LEMAN REDE, being Kit's and Adelgitha's Duet in _Sixteen String
Jack_].

_Ade._ Crissy odsbuds, I'll on with my duds, [1]
And over the water we'll flare;
_Kit._ Coaches and prads, lasses and lads, [2]
And fiddlers will be there.
_Ade._ There beauty blushes bright,
_Kit._ The punch is hot and strong,
_Both._And there we'll whisk it, frisk it, whisk it,
Skip it, and trip it along!

II

_Ade._ There's Charley Rattan, and natty Jack Rann,
And giant-like Giles McGhee;
There's Sidle so slim, and flare-away Tim,
And all of them doat on me.
_Kit._ Hadelgitha--platonically, Christopher!
_Ade._ But Charley, and Jack, and Tim,
In vain may exert their wit.
For still I'll dance it, prance it, dance it,
Flaring away with Kit!

II

_Kit._ There's frollicking Kate, and rollicking Bet,
And slammerkin Sall so tall,
And leary-eyed Poll, and blue-eyed Moll--
Blow me, I love them all!
Christopher--platonically, Hadelgitha!
But Winny, not Jenny, nor Sue,
Shall wean this heart from thee--
So thus I'll trip it, lip it, trip it,
Trip it with Hadelgitha!

IV

_Kit._ The morning may dawn as sure as you're born,
_Ade._ Will find us dancing alone
_Kit._ I'll get a hack, be off in a crack, [3]
_Ade._ An elegant Darby and Joan!
How'll the vulgarians stare
As they see you sportingly!
_Both._For none can splash it, dash it, splash it,
_Crissy Addy_ little you and I.

[1: clothes]
[2: horses]
[3: instant]

THE DASHY, SPLASHY.... LITTLE STRINGER [Notes]
[1841]

[By LEMAN REDE, being Kit's Song in _Sixteen-String Jack_].

I

A cloudy night, and pretty hard it blow'd,
The dashy, splashy, leary little stringer, [1]
Mounted his roan, and took the road--
Phililoo!

"My Lord Cashall's on the road to-night,
Down with the lads, make my lord alight--
Ran dan row de dow, on we go!"
_Chorus_.--Ran, dan, etc.

II

"You horrid wretch," said my Lord to Rann--
The dashy, splashy, leary little stringer--
"How dare you rob a gentleman?"
Phililoo!

Says Jack, says he, with his knowing phiz, [2]
"I ain't very pertic'lar who it is!
Ran dan row de dow, on we go!"
_Chorus_.--Ran, dan, etc.

III

Ve collar'd the blunt, started off for town, [3]
With the dashy, splashy, leary little stringer,
Horses knock'd up, men knock'd down--
Phililoo!

A lady's carriage we next espied,
I collar'd the blunt, Jack jumped inside,
Ran dan row de dow, on we go!
_Chorus_.--Ran, dan, etc.

IV

Jack took off his hat, with a jaunty air--
The dashy, splashy, leary little stringer--
And he kiss'd the lips of the lady fair--
Phililoo!

She sigh'd a sigh, and her looks said plain,
I don't care much if I'm robb'd again!
Ran dan row de dow, on we go!
_Chorus_.--Ran, dan, etc.

[1: spirited horse]
[2: wink]
[3: money]

THE BOULD YEOMAN [Notes]
[1842]

[By PIERCE EGAN in _Captain Macheath_].

I

A chant I'll tip to you about a High-pad pal so down, [1]
With his pops, and high-bred prad which brought to him renown; [2]
On the road he cut a dash, to him 'twas delight!
And if culls would not surrender, he shewed the kiddies fight! [3]
With his pops so bright and airy,
And his prad just like a fairy,
He went out to nab the gold! [4]
Derry down, down, derry down,

II

He met a bould yeoman, and bid him for to stand;
"If I do, I'm damn'd!" said he, "although you cut it grand.
I'm an old English farmer, and do not me provoke
I've a cudgel, look ye here, it's a prime tough bit of oak!
And I'll give you some gravy, [5]
Of that I'll take my davy, [6]
If you try to prig my gold [7]
Derry down."

III

Then the High-toby gloque drew his cutlass so fine;
Says he to the farmer, "you or I for the shine!"
And to it they went both, like two Grecians of old,
Cutting, slashing, up and down, and all for the gold!
'Twas cut for cut while it did last,
Thrashing, licking, hard and fast,
Hard milling for the gold. [8]
Derry down.

IV

The High-pad quickly cut the farmer's towel in twain-- [9]
Pulled out his barking-iron to send daylight through his brain; [10]
But said he I will not down you, if you will but disburse
Your rowdy with me, yeoman--I'm content to whack your purse! [11]
Down with the dust, and save your life, [12]
Your consent will end our strife,
Ain't your life worth more than gold?
Derry down.

V

Hand up the pewter, farmer, you shall have a share [13]
A kindness, for a toby gloque, you must say is rare;
That's right--tip up the kelter, it will make my bones amends, [14]
And wherever we may meet, farmer, we'll be the best of friends!
So mount your trotter and away, [15]
And if you ever come this way,
Take better care of your gold!
Derry down.

VI

Now listen to me, lads, and always you'll do well,
Empty every clie of duke, commoner, or swell; [16]
But if you stop a game cove, who has little else than pluck, [17]
Do not clean him out, and you'll never want for luck. [18]
So High-pads drink my toast,
Let honour be our boast,
And never pluck a poor cull of his gold.
Derry down.

THE BRIDLE-CULL AND HIS LITTLE POP-GUN [Notes]
[1842]

[By PIERCE EGAN in _Captain Macheath_].

I

My brave brother troopers, slap-up in the abode,
Come listen unto me while I chant about "the Road";
Oh prick up your list'ners if you are fond of fun [1]
A bridle-cull's the hero, and his little pop-gun. [2]
Fal, de, rol! lal! lal! la!

II

One morning early he went, this rollicking blade, [3]
To pick the blunt up, and he met a nice young maid; [4]
"I'll not rob you," said he, "and so you needn't bunk: [5]
But she lammas'd off in style, of his pop-gun afunk [6]
Fal, de, rol! lal! lal! la!"

III

Then up came a stage-coach, and thus the gloque did say, [7]
I'm sorry for to stop you, but you must hear my lay;
"Come, stand and deliver! if not, sure as the sun,
Your journey I will stop with my little pop-gun."
Fal, de, rol! lol! lol!

IV

"Tis by these little lays a High-padsman he thrives, [8]
"Oh take all our rhino, but pray spare our lives!" [9]
Cry the passengers who anxious all are for to run,
Frightened nigh to death by his little pop-gun."
Fol, de, rol.

Then, my blades, when you're bush'd, and must have the swag, [10]
Walk into tattlers, shiners, and never fear the lag; [11]
Then patter to all spicey, and tip 'em lots of fun, [12]
And blunt you'll never want while you've got a pop-gun. [13]
Fol, de, rol! la!

[1: ears]
[2: highwayman]
[3: fellow]
[4: money]
[5: run away]
[6: went off; afraid]
[7: highwayman]
[8: highwayman]
[9: money]
[10: companions; out of luck; plunder]
[11: watches; money; transportation]
[12: talk; civilly; give]
[13: money]

JACK FLASHMAN [Notes]
[1842]

[By PIERCE EGAN in _Captain Macheath_].

I

Jack Flashman was a prig so bold,
Who sighed for nothen but the gold;
For sounding, frisking any clie, [1]
Jack was the lad, and never shy.
Fol, de, rol.

II

Jack long was on the town, a teazer; [2]
A spicy blade for wedge or sneezer; [3]
Could turn his fives to anything [4]
Nap a reader, or filch a ring. [5]
Fol, de, rol.

III

Jack was all game, and never slack, [6]
In the darky tried the crack; [7]
Frisk'd the lobby and the swag;
"I'm fly to every move," his brag. [8]
Fol, de, rol.

IV

But Jack, at last, got too knowen--
Was made a flat by his blowen! [9]
She peached, so got him into trouble. [10]
And then, tipp'd poor Jack the double! [11]
Fol, de, rol.

V

Jack left the jug right mer-ri-ly, [12]
And vent and black'd his doxy's eye! [13]
Saying--look, marm, when next you split,
I'll finish you with a rummy hit!
Fol, de, rol.

VI

My blades, before my chaunt I end, [14]
Here the rag-sauce of a friend; [15]
Ne'er trust to any fancy jade,
For all their chaff is only trade!
Fol, de, rol.

VII

Let all their gammon be resisted;
Vithout you vishes to get twisted! [16]
And never nose upon yourself-- [17]
You then are sure to keep your pelf.
Fol, de, riddle.

[1: robbing; pocket]
[2: clever fellow]
[3: silver plate; snuffbox]
[4: hands]
[5: pocket-book; steal a ring]
[6: bold]
[7: evening; burglary]
[8: aware of]
[9: betrayed by his mistress]
[10: gave information]
[11: deserted]
[12: prison]
[13: sweetheart]
[14: men]
[15: advice]
[16: hung]
[17: talk about]

MISS DOLLY TRULL [Notes]
[1842]

[By PIERCE EGAN in _Captain Macheath_].

I

Of all the mots in this here jug, [1]
There's none like saucy Dolly;
And but to view her dimber mug [2]
Is e'er excuse for folly.
She runs such precious cranky rigs
With pinching wedge and lockets [3]
Yet she's the toast of all the prigs
Though stealing hearts and pockets.

II

Just twig Miss Dolly at a hop-- [4]
She tries to come the graces! [5]
To gain her end she will not stop
And all the swells she chases.
She ogles, nods, and patters flash [6]
To ev'ry flatty cully [7]
Until she frisks him, at a splash [8]
Of rhino, wedge, and tully. [9]

[1: women; prison]
[2: pretty face]
[3: stealing plate]
[4: see; dance]
[5: act]
[6: talks slang]
[7: susceptible fellow]
[8: robs; entirely]
[9: money]

THE BY-BLOW OF THE JUG [Notes]
[1842]

[By PIERCE EGAN in _Captain Macheath_].

I

In Newgate jail the jolly kid was born-- [1]
Infamy he suck'd without any scorn!
His mammy his father did not know,
But that's no odds--Jack was a by-blow!
Foddy, loddy, high O.

II

Scarcely had Jack got on his young pins, [2]
When his mammy put him up to some very bad sins,
And she taught him soon to swear and lie,
And to have a finger in every pie.
Foddy, loddy, high O.

III

His mammy was downy to every rig,-- [3]
Before he could read she made him a prig; [4]
Very soon she larn'd Jack to make a speak
And he toddled out on the morning sneak [5]
Foddy, loddy, high O.

IV

Jack had a sharp-looking eye to ogle, [6]
And soon he began to nap the fogle! [7]
And ever anxious to get his whack--
When scarcely ripe, he went on the crack. [8]
Foddy, loddy, high O.

V

"Now, my chick," says she, "you must take the road
'Tis richer than the finest abode,
For watches, purses, and lots of the gold--
A scampsman, you know, must always be bold." [9]
Foddy, loddy, high O.

VI

His mother then did give Jack some advice,
To her son a thief, who was not o'er nice;
Says she--"Fight your way, Jack, and stand the brunt,
You're of no use, my child, without the blunt, [10]
Foddy, loddy, high O."

VII

"Then keep it up, Jack, with rare lots of fun.
A short life, perhaps, but a merry one;
Your highway dodges may then live in fame,
Cheat miss-Fortune, and be sure to die game."
Foddy, loddy, high O.

VIII

"In spite of bad luck, don't be a grumbler;
If you are finished off from a tumbler! [11]
But to the end of your life, cut a shine,
You're not the first man got into a line."
Foddy, loddy, high O.

[1: child]
[2: feet]
[3: accomplished;]
[4: thief]
[5: round for theft]
[6: leer]
[7: steal; handkerchief]
[8: housebreaking]
[9: highwayman]
[10: money]
[11: cart; Notes]

THE CADGER'S BALL [Notes]
[1852]

[From JOHN LABERN'S _Popular Comic Song Book_. Tune--_Joe
Buggins._].

I

Oh, what a spicy flare-up, tear-up,
Festival Terpsickory,
Was guv'd by the genteel cadgers
In the famous Rookery.
As soon as it got vind, however,
Old St Giles's vos to fall--
They all declar'd, so help their never,
They'd vind up vith a stunnin' ball!
Tol, lol lol, etc.

II

Jack Flipflap took the affair in hand, sirs--
Who understood the thing complete--
He'd often danced afore the public,
On the boards, about the streets.
Old Mother Swankey, she consented
To lend her lodging-house for nix-- [1]
Say's she, 'The crib comes down to-morrow,
So, go it, just like beans and bricks.' [2]
Tol, lol lol, etc.

III

The night arrived for trotter-shaking-- [3]
To Mother Swankey's snoozing-crib; [4]
Each downy cadger was seen taking
His bit of muslin, or his rib. [5]
Twelve candles vos stuck into turnips,
Suspended from the ceiling queer--
Bunn's blaze of triumph was all pickles
To this wegetable shandileer.
Tol, lol lol, etc.

IV

Ragged Jack, wot chalks 'Starvation !'
Look'd quite fat and swellish there--
While Dick, wot 'dumbs it' round the nation,
Had all the jaw among the fair.
Limping Ned wot brought his duchess,
At home had left his wooden pegs--
And Jim, wot cadges it on crutches,
Vos the nimblest covey on his legs.
Tol, lol lol, etc.

V

The next arrival was old Joe Burn,
Wot does the fits to Natur chuff--
And Fogg, And Fogg, wot's blind each day in Ho'born,
Saw'd his way there clear enough,
Mr. Sinniwating Sparrow,
In corduroys span new and nice,
Druv up in his pine-apple barrow,
Which he used to sell a win a slice. [6]
Tol, lol lol, etc.

VI

The ball was open'd by fat Mary,
Togg'd out in book muslin pure, [7]
And Saucy Sam, surnamed 'The Lary,'
Who did the '_Minuit-on-a-squre.'_
While Spifflicating Charley Coker,
And Jane of the Hatchet-face divine,
Just did the Rowdydowdy Poker,
And out of Greasy took the shine. [8]
Tol, lol lol, etc.

VII

The Sillywarious next was done in
Tip-top style just as it should,
By Muster and Missus Mudfog, stunning,
Whose hair curled like a bunch of wood.
The folks grinn'd all about their faces,
'Cos Mudfog--prince of flashy bucks--
Had on a pair of pillow Cases,
Transmogrified slap into ducks!
Tol, lol lol, etc.

VIII

The celebrated Pass de Sandwich
To join in no one could refuse--
Six bushels on 'em came in, and wich
Wanish'd in about two two's.
The Gatter Waltz next followed arter-- [9]
They lapp'd it down, right manful-ly, [10]
Until Joe Guffin and his darter,
Was in a state of Fourpen-ny!
Tol, lol lol, etc.

IX

Next came the Pass de Fascination
Betwixt Peg Price and Dumby Dick--
But Peg had sich a corporation,
He dropp'd her like a red hot brick.
The company was so enraptur'd,
They _buckets_ of vall flowers threw--
But one chap flung a bunch of turnips,
Which nearly split Dick's nut in two.
Tol, lol lol, etc.

X

The dose now set to gallopading,
And stamp'd with all their might and main--
They thump'd the floor so precious hard-in,
It split the ancient crib in twain, [11]
Some pitch'd in the road, bent double--
Some was smash'd with bricks--done brown--
So the cadgers saved 'The Crown' the trouble
Of sending coves to pull it down.
Tol, lol lol, etc.

[1: nothing]
[2: merrily]
[3: walking]
[4: lodging-house]
[5: sweetheart; wife]
[6: penny]
[7: dressed]
[8: Grisi?]
[9: beer]
[10: drunk]
[11: house]

"DEAR BILL, THIS STONE-JUG" [Notes]
[1857]

[From _Punch_, 31 Jan., p. 49. Being an Epistle from Toby
Cracksman, in Newgate, to Bill Sykes].

I

Dear Bill, this stone-jug at which flats dare to rail, [1]
(From which till the next Central sittings I hail),
Is still the same snug, free-and-easy old hole,
Where Macheath met his blowens, and Wild floor'd his bowl [2]
In a ward with one's pals, not locked up in a cell, [3]
To an old hand like me it's a family hotel. [4]

II

In the dayrooms the cuffins we queers at our ease, [5]
And at Darkmans we run the rig just as we please, [6]
There's your peck and your lush, hot and reg'lar each day. [7]
All the same if you work, all the same if you play
But the lark's when a goney up with us they shut [8]
As ain't up to our lurks, our flash patter, and smut; [9]

III

But soon in his eye nothing green would remain,
He knows what's o'clock when he comes out again.
And the next time he's quodded so downy and snug, [10]
He may thank us for making him fly to the jug. [11]
But here comes a cuffin--who cuts short my tale,
It's agin rules is screevin' to pals out o' gaol. [12]

[The following postscript seems to have been
added when the Warder had passed.]

IV

For them coves in Guildhall, and that blessed Lord Mayor,
Prigs on their four bones should chop whiners I swear: [13]
That long over Newgit their Worships may rule,
As the high-toby, mob, crack and screeve model school: [14]
For if Guv'ment wos here, not the Alderman's Bench,
Newgit soon 'ud be bad as 'the Pent,' or 'the Tench'. [15]

[1: prison]
[2: mistresses]
[3: friends]
[4: Notes]
[5: warders, bamboozle]
[6: night]
[7: meat and drink]
[8: greenhorn]
[9: tricks; talking slang; obscenity]
[10: imprisoned]
[11: up to prison ways]
[12: writing]
[13: on knees should pray]
[14: highwayman; swell-mobsmen; burglars, forgers]
[15: Notes]

THE LEARY MAN [Notes]
[1857]

[From _The Vulgar Tongue_, by DUCANGE ANGLICUS].

I

Of ups and downs I've felt the shocks
Since days of bats and shuttlecocks,
And allcumpaine and Albert-rocks,
When I the world began;
And for these games I often sigh
Both marmoney and Spanish-fly,
And flying kites, too, in the sky,
For which I've often ran.

II

But by what I've seen, and where I've been,
I've always found it so,
That if you wish to learn to live
Too much you cannot know.
For you must now be wide-awake,
If a living you would make,
So I'll advise what course to take
To be a Leary Man.

II

Go first to costermongery,
To every fakement get a-fly, [1]
And pick up all their slangery,
But let this be your plan;
Put up with no Kieboshery, [2]
But look well after poshery, [3]
And cut teetotal sloshery, [4]
And get drunk when you can.

IV

And when you go to spree about,
Let it always be your pride
To have a white tile on your nob [5 ]
And bull-dog by your side
Your fogle you must flashly tie [6]
Each word must patter flashery, [7]
And hit cove's head to smashery,
To be a Leary Man.

V

To Covent Garden or Billingsgate
You of a morn must not be late,
But your donkey drive at a slashing rate,
And first be if you can.
From short pipe you must your bacca blow
And if your donkey will not go,
To lick him you must not be slow
But well his hide must tan.

VI

The fakement conn'd by knowing rooks
Must be well known to you,
And if you come to fibbery,
You must mug one or two.
Then go to St Giles's rookery, [8]
And live up some strange nookery,
Of no use domestic cookery,
To be a Leary Man.

VII

Then go to pigeon fancery
And know each breed by quiz of eye,
Bald-heads from skin-'ems by their fly,
Go wrong you never can.
All fighting coves too you must know
Ben Caunt as well as Bendigo,
And to each mill be sure to go,
And be one of the van.

VIII

Things that are found before they're lost,
Be always first to find.
Restore dogs for a pound or two
You'll do a thing that's kind,
And you must sport a blue billy,
Or a yellow wipe tied loosily [9]
Round your scrag for bloaks to see [10]
That you're a Leary Man

IX

At knock-'em-downs and tiddlywink,
To be a sharp you must not shrink,
But be a brick and sport your chink [11]
To win must be your plan.
And set-toos and Cock-fighting
Are things you must take delight in,
And always try to be right in
And every kidment scan.

X

And bullying and chaffing too,
To you should be well known,
Your nob be used to bruisery, [12]
And hard as any stone.
Put the kiebosh on the dibbery,
Know a Joey from a tibbery,
And now and then have a black eye,
To be a Leary Man.

XI

To fairs and races go must you,
And get in rows and fights a few,
And stopping out all night it's true
Must often be your plan.
And as through the world you budgery,
Get well awake to fudgery,
And rub off every grudgery,
And do the best you can.

XII

But mummery and slummery
You must keep in your mind,
For every day, mind what I say,
Fresh fakements you will find.
But stick to this while you can crawl.
To stand 'till you're obliged to fall,
And when you're wide awake to all
You'll be a Leary Man.

[1: dodge; learn]
[2: nonsense]
[3: money]
[4: drink]
[5: hat; head]
[6: necktie]
[7: talk slang]
[8: Notes]
[9: handkerchief]
[10: neck; men]
[11: good fellow; money]
[12: head; pugilism]

"A HUNDRED STRETCHES HENCE" [Notes]
[1859]

[From _The Vocabulum: or Rogues Lexicon_, by G. W. MATSELL, New
York].

I

Oh! where will be the culls of the bing [1]
A hundred stretches hence? [2]
The bene morts who sweetly sing, [3]
A hundred stretches hence?
The autum-cacklers, autum-coves, [4]
The jolly blade who wildly roves; [5]
And where the buffer, bruiser, blowen, [6]
And all the cops, and beaks so knowin, [7]
A hundred stretches hence?

II

And where the swag so bleakly pinched [8]
A hundred stretches hence?
The thimbles, slangs, and danglers filched, [9]
A hundred stretches hence?
The chips, the fawneys, chatty-feeders, [10]
The bugs, the boungs, and well-filled readers; [11]
And where the fence, and snoozing ken, [12]
With all the prigs and lushing men, [13]
A hundred stretches hence?

III

Played out they lay, it will be said
A hundred stretches hence;
With shovels they were put to bed [14]
A hundred stretches since!
Some rubbed to wit had napped a winder, [15]
And some were scragged and took a blinder, [16]
Planted the swag and lost to sight, [17]
We'll bid them one and all good-night,
A hundred stretches hence.

[1: publicans]
[2: years]
[3: pretty women]
[4: married women and men]
[5: boon companion]
[6: smuggler; pugilist; whore]
[7: police; magistrate]
[8: plunder cleverly stolen]
[9: watches; chains; seals; stolen]
[10: money; rings; spoons]
[11: breast-pins; purses; pocket-book]
[12: receiver of stolen goods; brothel]
[13: thieves; drunkards]
[14: buried]
[15: taken to gaol; had cheated a life sentence]
[16: hanged; drowned oneself]
[17: got rid of the plunder]

THE CHICKALEARY COVE [Notes]
[_c_. 1864]

I

I'm a 'Chickaleary bloke' with my one, two, three, [1]
Whitechapel was the village I was born in,
For to get me on the hop, or on my tibby drop, [2]
You must wake up very early in the morning.
I have a rorty gal, also a knowing pal, [3]
And merrily together we jog on,
I doesn't care a flatch, as long as I've a tach, [4]
Some pannum for my chest, and a tog on. [5]
I'm a Chickaleary bloke with my one, two, three,
Whitechapel was the village I born in,
For to get me on the hop, or on my tibby drop,
You must wake up very early in the morning.

II

Now kool my downy kicksies--the style for me, [6]
Built on a plan werry naughty,
The stock around my squeeze a guiver colour see, [7]
And the vestat with the bins so rorty, [8]
My tailor serves you well, from a perger to a swell, [9]
At Groves's you're safe to make a sure pitch, [10]
For ready yenom down, there ain't a shop in town, [11]
Can lick Groves in The Cut as well as Shoreditch. [12]
I'm a Chickaleary bloke, etc.

III

Off to Paris I shall go, to show a thing or two
To the dipping blokes what hangs about the caffes, [13]
How to do a cross-fam, for a super, or a slang, [14]
And to bustle them grand'armes I'd give the office:
Now my pals I'm going to slope, see you soon again, I hope,
My young woman is awaiting, so be quick;
Now join in a chyike, the jolly we all like, [15]
I'm off with a party to the Vic.
I'm a Chickaleary bloke, etc.

[1: Whitechapel swell]
[2: got the better of me]
[3: flashly dressed; clever]
[4: halfpenny; hat]
[5: eatables; coat]
[6: look; trousers flashy cut]
[7: neck; flash]
[8: vest; pockets]
[9: teetotaller]
[10: place]
[11: money]
[12: beat]
[13: pickpockets]
[14: watch; chain]
[15: salute; shout]

BLOOMING AESTHETIC
[1882]

[From _The Rag_, 30 Sept.].

_He_

I

A dealer-in-coke young man,
A wallop-his-moke young man,
A slosher-of-pals,
A spooning-with-gals, [1]
An ought-to-be-blowed young man.

II

A tell-a-good-whopper young man, [2]
A slogging-a-copper young man, [3]
A pay-on-the-nod, [4]
An always-in-quod, [5]
A sure-to-be-scragged young man. [6]

III

A Sunday-flash-togs young man, [7]
A pocket-of-hogs young man, [8]
A save-all-his-rhino, [9]
A cut-a-big-shine, oh,
Will soon-have-a-pub young man

_She_

I

A powder-and-paint young girl,
Not-quite-a-saint young girl,
An always-get-tight, [10]
A stay-out-all-night,
Have-a-kid-in-the-end young girl. [11]

II

Make-a-bloke-a-choke young girl,
Love-a-gin-soak young girl, [12]
On-the-kerb-come-a-cropper,
Run-in-by-a-copper, [13]
"Fined-forty-bob "--young girl.

III

A tallow-faced-straight young girl,
A never-out-late young girl,
A Salvation-mummery,
Smoleless-and-glummery,
Kid-by-a-captain young girl.

[1: making love]
[2: lie]
[3: assaulting the police]
[4: take unlimited credit]
[5: in prison]
[6: hung]
[7: clothes]
[8: silver]
[9: money]
[10: drunk]
[11: child]
[12: drunken bout]
[13: policeman]

'ARRY AT A POLITICAL PICNIC
[By T Milliken in _Punch_, 11 Oct.]

DEAR CHARLIE.

I

'Ow are yer, my ribstone? Seems scrumtious to write the old name.
I 'ave quite lost the ran of you lately. Bin playing some dark little game? [1]
I'm keeping mine hup as per usual, fust in the pick of the fun,
For wherever there's larks on the tappy there's 'Arry as sure as a gun.

II

The latest new lay's Demonstrations. You've heard on 'em, Charlie, no doubt,
For they're at 'em all over the shop. I 'ave 'ad a rare bustle about.
All my Saturday arfs are devoted to Politics. Fancy, old chump,
Me doing the sawdusty reglar, and follering swells on the stump! [2]

III

But, bless yer, my bloater, it isn't all chin-music, votes, and 'Ear! 'ear!' [3]
Or they wouldn't catch me on the ready, or nail me for ninepence. No fear!
Percessions I've got a bit tired of, hoof-padding and scrouging's dry rot, [4]
But Political Picnics mean sugar to them as is fly to wot's wot.

IV

Went to one on 'em yesterday, Charlie; a reglar old up and down lark.
The Pallis free gratis, mixed up with a old country fair in a park,
And Rosherville Gardens chucked in, with a dash of the Bean Feast will do,
To give you some little idear of our day with Sir Jinks Bottleblue.

V

Make much of us, Charlie? Lor bless you, we might ha' bin blooming Chinese
A-doing the rounds at the 'Ealthries. 'Twas regular go as you please.
Lawn-tennis, quoits, cricket, and dancing for them as must be on the shove,

But I preferred pecking and prowling, and spotting the mugs making love.

VI

Don't ketch me a-slinging my legs about arter a beast of a ball
At ninety degrees in the shade or so, Charlie, old chap, not at all.
Athletics 'aint 'ardly my form, and a cutaway coat and tight bags
Are the species of togs for yours truly, and lick your loose 'flannels' to rags.

VII

So I let them as liked do a swelter; I sorntered about on the snap.
Rum game this yer Politics, Charlie, seems arf talkee-talkee and trap.
Jest fancy old Bluebottle letting the 'multitood' pic-nic and lark,
And make Battersea Park of his pleasure-grounds, Bathelmy Fair of his park!

VIII

'To show his true love for the People!' sezs one vote-of-thanking tall-talker,
And wosn't it rude of a bloke as wos munching a bun to cry 'Walker!'
I'm Tory right down to my boots, at a price, and I bellered "'Ear, ear!'
But they don't cop yours truly with chaff none the more, my dear Charlie, no fear!"

IX

Old Bottleblue tipped me his flipper, and 'oped I'd 'refreshed,' and all that. [10]
'Wy rather,' sez I, 'wot do you think ?' at which he stared into his 'at,
And went a bit red in the gills. Must ha' thought me a muggins, old man, [11]
To ask sech a question of 'Arry--as though grabbing short was his plan.

X

I went the rounds proper, I tell yer; 'twas like the free run of a Bar,
And Politics wants lots o' wetting. Don't ketch me perched up on a car,
Or 'olding a flag-pole no more. No, percessions, dear boy, ain't my fad,
But Political Picnics with fireworks, and plenty of swiz ain't 'arf bad.

XI

The palaver was sawdust and treacle. Old Bottleblue buzzed for a bit,
And a sniffy young Wiscount in barnacles landed wot 'e thought a 'it;
Said old Gladstone wos like Simpson's weapon, a bit of a hass and all jor,
When a noisy young Rad in a wideawake wanted to give him what for! [12]

XII

Yah! boo! Turn 'im hout!' sings yours truly, a-thinkin' the fun was at 'and,
But, bless yer! 'twas only a sputter. I can't say the meeting looked grand.
Five thousand they reckoned us, Charlie, but if so I guess the odd three
Were a-spooning about in the halley's, or lappin' up buns and Bohea.

XIII

The band and the 'opping wos prime though, and 'Arry in course wos all there.
I 'ad several turns with a snappy young party with stror coloured 'air.
Her name she hinfonned me wos Polly, and wen in my 'appiest style,
I sez, 'Polly is nicer than Politics!' didn't she colour and smile?

XIV

We got back jest in time for the Fireworks, a proper flare-up, and no kid,
Which finished that day's Demonstration, an' must 'ave cost many a quid.
Wot fireworks and park-feeds do Demonstrate, Charlie, I'm blest if I see,
And I'm blowed if I care a brass button, so long as I get a cheap spree.

XV

The patter's all bow-wow, of course, but it goes with the buns and the beer.
If it pleases the Big-wigs to spout, wy it don't cost bus nothink to cheer.
Though they ain't got the 'ang of it, Charlie, the toffs ain't--no go and no spice!
Why, I'd back Barney Crump at our Singsong to lick 'em two times out o' twice!

XVI

Still I'm all for the Lords and their lot, Charlie. Rads are my 'error, you know.
Change R into C and you've got 'em, and 'Arry 'ates anythink low.
So if Demonstrations means skylarks, and lotion as much as you'll carry,
These 'busts of spontanyous opinion' may reckon all round upon 'Arry.

[1: sight]
[2: nonsense]
[3: talking]
[4: walking]
[5: eating; fools]
[6: trousers]
[7: prowl]
[8: Notes]
[9: catch]
[10: shook hands]
[11: face; fool]
[12: something to talk about]

"RUM COVES THAT RELIEVE US"
[1887]

[By HEINRICH BAUMANN in _Londonismen_].

I

Rum coves that relieve us [1]
Of clunkers and pieces, [2]
Is gin'rally lagged, [3]
Or wuss luck gets scragg'd. [4]

II

Are smashers and divers [5]
And noble contrivers
Not sold to the beaks [6]
By the coppers an' sneaks? [7]

III

Yet moochin' arch-screevers, [8]
Concoctin' deceivers,
Chaps as reap like their own
What by tothers were sown;

IV

Piratical fakers [9]
Of bosh by the acres,
These muck-worms of trash
Cut, oh, a great dash.

V

But, there, it don't matter
Since, to cut it still fatter,
By 'ook and by crook
Ve've got up this book.

VI

Tell ye 'ow? Vy in rum kens, [10]
In flash cribs and slum dens, [11]
I' the alleys and courts,
'Mong the doocedest sorts;

VII

When jawin' with Jillie
Or Mag and 'er Billie,
Ve shoved down in black
Their illigant clack. [12]

VIII

So from hartful young dodgers,
From vaxy old codgers, [13]
From the blowens ve got [14]
Soon to know vot is vot.

IX

Now then there is yer sumptuous
Tuck-in of most scrumptious,
And dainty mag-pie! [15]
Will ye jes' come and try?

[1: thieves]
[2: money]
[3: imprisoned]
[4: hung]
[5: counterfeiters; pickpockets]
[6: magistrates]
[7: police; informers]
[8: prowling; begging letter writers]
[9: writers of "blood and thunder"]
[10: queer places]
[11: thieves' resorts]
[12: talk]
[13: men]
[14: prostitutes]
[15: speech]

VILLON'S GOOD-NIGHT
[1887]

[By WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY].

I

You bible-sharps that thump on tubs, [1]
You lurkers on the Abram-sham, [2]
You sponges miking round the pubs, [3]
You flymy titters fond of flam, [4]
You judes that clobber for the stramm, [5]
You ponces good at talking tall,
With fawneys on your dexter famm-- [6]
A mot's good-night to one and all! [7]

II

Likewise you molls that flash your bubs [8]
For swells to spot and stand you sam, [9]
You bleeding bonnets, pugs, and subs,
You swatchel-coves that pitch and slam. [10]
You magsmen bold that work the cram, [11]
You flats and joskins great and small,
Gay grass-widows and lawful-jam-- [12]
A mot's good-night to one and all!

III

For you, you coppers, narks, and dubs, [13]
Who pinched me when upon the snam, [14]
And gave me mumps and mulligrubs [15]
With skilly and swill that made me clam, [16]
At you I merely lift my gam-- [17]
I drink your health against the wall! [18]
That is the sort of man I am,
A mot's good-night to one and all!

_The Farewell_.

Paste 'em, and larrup 'em, and lamm!
Give Kennedy, and make 'em crawl! [19]
I do not care one bloody damn,
A mot's good-night to one and all.

[1: false clericos]
[2: beggar feigning sickness]
[3: cadgers; loafing]
[4: saucy girls; non-sense]
[5: women dress; game]
[6: rings; right hand]
[7: harlot]
[8: prostitutes; expose paps]
[9: see; pay for]
[10: Punch-and-judy-man]
[11: pattering tradesman]
[12: wife]
[13: police; informers; warders]
[14: arrested; stealing]
[15: "the blues"]
[16: refuse food]
[17: leg]
[18: urinate]
[19: thrash them and make them stir]

VILLON'S STRAIGHT TIP TO ALL CROSS COVES [Notes]
[1887]

[By WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY].

_'Tout aux tavernes et aux filles'_

I

Suppose you screeve, or go cheap-jack? [1]
Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your pot?
How do you melt the multy swag?
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

II

Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
Pad with a slang, or chuck a fag;
Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot
You cannot bank a single stag:
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

III

Suppose you try a different tack,
And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
Or with the mummers mug and gag?
For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag
At any graft, no matter what!
Your merry goblins soon stravag:
Booze and the blowens cop the lor.

_The Moral._

It's up-the-spout and Charley-Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not!
Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
Booze and the blowens cop the lot.

[1: See Notes for translation]

CULTURE IN THE SLUMS
[1887]

[By WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY: "Inscribed to an intense poet"].

I. _Rondeau._

I

"O crikey, Bill!" she ses to me, she ses.
"Look sharp," ses she, "with them there sossiges.
Yea! sharp with them there bags of mysteree! [1]
For lo!" she ses, "for lo! old pal," ses she, [2]
"I'm blooming peckish, neither more nor less." [3]

II

Was it not prime--I leave you all to guess
How prime! to have a jude in love's distress [4]
Come spooning round, and murmuring balmilee, [5]
"O crikey, Bill!"

III

For in such rorty wise doth Love express [6]
His blooming views, and asks for your address,
And makes it right, and does the gay and free.
I kissed her--I did so! And her and me
Was pals. And if that ain't good business.
O crikey, Bill!

II. _Villanelle_.

I

Now ain't they utterly too--too? [7]
(She ses, my Missus mine, ses she),
Them flymy little bits of Blue. [8]

II

Joe, just you kool 'em--nice and skew [9]
Upon our old meogginee,
Now ain't they utterly too-too?

III

They're better than a pot'n a screw,
They're equal to a Sunday spree,
Them flymy little bits of Blue!

IV

Suppose I put 'em up the flue, [10]
And booze the profits, Joe? Not me. [11]
Now ain't they utterly too-too ?

V

I do the 'Igh Art fake, I do.
Joe, I'm consummate; and I _see_
Them flymy little bits of Blue.

VI

Which, Joe, is why I ses to you--
AEsthetic-like, and limp, and free--
Now ain't they utterly too-too,
Them flymy little bits of Blue?

III. _Ballade_.

I

I often does a quiet read
At Booty Shelley's poetry; [12]
I thinks that Swinburne at a screed
Is really almost too-too fly;
At Signor Vagna's harmony [13]
I likes a merry little flutter;
I've had at Pater many a shy;
In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter.

II

My mark's a tidy little feed,
And 'Enery Irving's gallery,
To see old 'Amlick do a bleed,
And Ellen Terry on the die,
Or Franky's ghostes at hi-spy,
And parties carried on a shutter [14]
Them vulgar Coupeaus is my eye!
In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter.

III

The Grosvenor's nuts--it is, indeed!
I goes for 'Olman 'Unt like pie.
It's equal to a friendly lead [15]
To see B. Jones's judes go by.
Stanhope he makes me fit to cry,
Whistler he makes me melt like butter,
Strudwick he makes me flash my cly-- [16]
In fact, my form's the Bloomin' Utter.

_Envoy_.

I'm on for any Art that's 'Igh!
I talks as quite as I can splutter;
I keeps a Dado on the sly;
In fact, my form's the Blooming Utter!

[1: sausages]
[2: friend]
[3: very hungry]
[4: girl]
[5: fondling; softly]
[6: thus expressively]
[7: nice]
[8: _i.e._ china]
[9: look at]
[10: pawn]
[11: drink]
[12: Botticelli(?)]
[13: Wagner(?)]
[14: The Corsican Brothers(?)]
[15: Notes]
[16: spend money]

"TOTTIE"
[1887]

[By "DAGONET" (G. R. SIMS) in _Referee_, 7 Nov.].

I

As she walked along the street
With her little 'plates of meat,' [1]
And the summer sunshine falling
On her golden 'Barnet Fair,' [2]
Bright as angels from the skies
Were her dark blue 'mutton pies.' [3]
In my 'East and West' Dan Cupid [4]
Shot a shaft and left it there.

II

She'd a Grecian 'I suppose,' [5]
And of 'Hampstead Heath' two rows, [6]
In her 'Sunny South' that glistened [7]
Like two pretty strings of pearls;
Down upon my 'bread and cheese' [8]
Did I drop and murmur, 'Please
Be my "storm and strife," dear Tottie, [9]
O, you darlingest of girls!'

III

Then a bow-wow by her side, [10]
Who till then had stood and tried
A 'Jenny Lee' to banish, [11]
Which was on his 'Jonah's whale,' [12]
Gave a hydrophobia bark,
(She cried, 'What a Noah's Ark!') [13]
And right through my 'rank and riches' [14]
Did my 'cribbage pegs' assail. [15]

IV

Ere her bull-dog I could stop
She had called a 'ginger pop,' [16]
Who said, 'What the "Henry Meville" [17]
Do you think you're doing there?'
And I heard as off I slunk,
'Why, the fellow's "Jumbo's trunk!" [18]
And the 'Walter Joyce' was Tottie's [19]
With the golden 'Barnet Fair.' [20]

[1: feet]
[2: hair]
[3: eyes]
[4: breast]
[5: nose]
[6: teeth]
[7: mouth]
[8: knees]
[9: wife]
[10: dog]
[11: flee]
[12: tail]
[13: lark]
[14: breeches]
[15: legs]
[16: slop = policeman]
[17: devil]
[18: drunk]
[19: voice]
[20: hair]

A PLANK BED BALLAD
[1888]

[By "DAGONET" (G. R. SIMS) in _Referee_, 12 Feb.].

I

Understand, if you please, I'm a travelling thief,
The gonophs all call me the gypsy; [1]
By the rattler I ride when I've taken my brief, [2]
And I sling on my back an old kipsey. [3]

II

If I pipe a good chat, why, I touch for the wedge, [4]
But I'm not a "particular" robber;
I smug any snowy I see on the hedge, [5]
And I ain't above daisies and clobber. [6]

III

One day I'd a spree with two firms in my brigh, [7]
And a toy and a tackle--both red 'uns; [8]
And a spark prop a pal (a good screwsman) and I [9]
Had touched for in working two dead 'uns.

IV

I was taking a ducat to get back to town [10]
(I had come by the rattler to Dover),
When I saw as a reeler was roasting me brown, [11]
And he rapped, "I shall just turn you over." [12]

V

I guyed, but the reeler he gave me hot beef, [13]
And a scuff came about me and hollered;
I pulled out a chive, but I soon came to grief, [14]
And with screws and a james I was collared. [15]

VI

I was fullied, and then got three stretch for the job,[16]
And my trip--cuss the day as I seen her-- [17]
She sold off my home to some pals in her mob, [18]
For a couple of foont and ten deener. [19]

VII

Oh, donnys and omees, what gives me the spur, [20]
Is, I'm told by a mug (he tells whoppers), [21]
That I ought to have greased to have kept out of stir [22]
The dukes of the narks and the coppers. [23]

[1: boys]
[2: rail; ticket]
[3: basket]
[4: see; horse; go for; silver plate]
[5: steal; linen]
[6: boots; clothes]
[7: L5 notes; pocket]
[8: watch; chain; gold]
[9: diamond pin]
[10: ticket]
[11: detective; closely scanning me]
[12: said; search you]
[13: ran; tea; chased me]
[14: knife]
[15: burglars tools; caught]
[16: remanded; years]
[17: mistress]
[18: friends; set]
[19: L5 notes; shillings]
[20: girl; fellows]
[21: man]
[22: bribed]
[23: hands; detectives; police]

THE RONDEAU OF THE KNOCK
[1890]

[By "DAGONET" (G. R. SIMS) in _Referee_, 20 Ap. p. 7].

I

He took the knock! No more with jaunty air [1]
He'll have the "push" that made the punter stare;
No more in monkeys now odds on he'll lay [2]
And make the ever grumbling fielder gay.
One plunger more has had his little flare [3]
And then came to Monday when he couldn't "square"; [4]
Stripped of his plunees a poor denuded J [5]
He took the knock!
Where is he now? Ah! echo answers "where"?
Upon the turf he had his little day
And when, stone-broke, he could no longer pay [6]
Leaving the ring to gnash its teeth and swear
He took the knock!

[1: gave in]
[2: L500]
[3: opportunity]
[4: pay up]
[5: fellow]
[6: ruined]

THE RHYME OF THE RUSHER
[1892]

[By DOSS CHIDERDOSS in _Sporting Times_, 29 Oct. _In
Appropriate Rhyming Slanguage_].

I

I was out one night on the strict teetote, [1]
'Cause I couldn't afford a drain;
I was wearing a leaky I'm afloat, [2]
And it started to France and Spain. [3]
But a toff was mixed in a bull and cow, [4]
And I helped him to do a bunk; [5]
He had been on the I'm so tap, and now [6]
He was slightly elephant's trunk. [7]

II

He offered to stand me a booze, so I [8]
Took him round to the "Mug's Retreat;"
And my round the houses I tried to dry [9]
By the Anna Maria's heat. [10]
He stuck to the I'm so to drown his cares,
While I went for the far and near, [11]
Until the clock on the apples and pears [12]
Gave the office for us to clear. [13]

III

Then round at the club we'd another bout,
And I fixed him at nap until
I had turned his skyrockets inside out, [14]
And had managed my own to fill,
Of course, I had gone on the half-ounce trick,[15]
And we quarrelled, and came to blows;
But I fired him out of the Roiy quick,
And he fell on his I suppose. [16]

IV

And he laid there, weighing out prayers for me,
Without hearing the plates of meat [17]
Of a slop, who pinched him for "d. and d." [18]
And disturbing a peaceful beat,
And I smiled as I closed my two mince pies [19]
In my insect promenade;
For out of his nibs I had taken a rise, [20]
And his stay on the spot was barred.

V

Next morning I brushed up my Barnet Fair, [21]

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