Part 36 (1/2)

[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 s.m.u.t; [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 pa.s.sed.]

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 Wors.h.i.+ps 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]