Musa Pedestris - Three Centuries of Canting Songs and Slang Rhymes [1536 - 1896] Part 29

And a double-tongued squib to keep in awe [9]

The chaps that flout at me!

II

From morn till night we'll booze a ken, [10]

And we'll pa.s.s the bingo round; [11]

At dusk we'll make our lucky, and then, [12]

With our nags so fresh, and our merry men, We'll scour the lonely ground.

And if the swell resist our "Stand!"

We'll squib without a joke; [13]

For I'm sn.i.g.g.e.r'd if we will be trepanned [14]

By the blarneying jaw of a knowing hand, And thus be lagged to a foreign land, Or die by an artichoke. [15]

III

But should the traps be on the sly, For a change we'll have a crack; [16]

The richest cribs shall our wants supply-- [17]

Or we'll knap a fogle with fingers fly, [18]

When the swell one turns his back. [19]

The flimsies we can smash as well, [20]

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 h.e.l.l, [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: pa.s.s false notes]

[21: watch]

[22: prison]

[24: parson]

[25: magistrate; handsomest]

"THE FAKING BOY TO THE c.r.a.p IS GONE" [Notes]

[1841]

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

I

The faking boy to the c.r.a.p 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.