Part 28 (1/2)

V.

Each cove vos teared with double duty, To please his backers, yet play booty, [9]

Ven, luckily for Jem, a teller Vos planted right upon his smeller [10]

Down dropped he, stunned; ven time was called Seconds in vain the seconds bawled; The mill is o'er, the crosser crost, The losers von, the vinners lost.

[1: fight]

[2: money]

[3: man]

[4: stripped]

[5: fellow]

[6: Notes]

[7: hands]

[8: blood]

[9: deceive them]

[10: nose]

THE THIEVES' CHAUNT [Notes]

[1836]

(By W. H. SMITH in _The Individual_)

I

There is a nook in the boozing ken, [1]

Where many a mug I fog, [2]

And the smoke curls gently, while cousin Ben Keeps filling the pots again and again, If the coves have stump'd their hog. [3]

II

The liquors around are diamond bright, And the diddle is best of all; [4]

But I never in liquors took delight, For liquors I think is all a bite, [5]

So for heavy wet I call. [6]

III

The heavy wet in a pewter quart, As brown as a badger's hue, More than Bristol milk or gin, [7]

Brandy or rum, I tipple in, With my darling blowen, Sue. [8]

IV

Oh! grunting peck in its eating [9]

Is a richly soft and savoury thing; A Norfolk capon is jolly grub [10]

When you wash it down with strength of bub: [11]

But dearer to me Sue's kisses far, Than grunting peck or other grub are, And I never funks the lambskin men, [12]

When I sits with her in the boozing ken.

V

Her duds are bob--she's a kinchin crack, [13]

And I hopes as how she'll never back; For she never lushes dog's-soup or lap, [14]