a fight.
But in Trade, Art, and Littery lines, CHARLIE, 'anged if there's any fair
play,
And the "cullerable himitation" is jest the disgrace of the day.

Sech scoots scurryfunging around on the gay old galoot, to go snacks
In the profits of other folks' notions, have put you, old pal, in a wax.
Never mind their shenanigan, CHARLIE; it don't do much hurt, anyhow;
I was needled a trifle at fust, but I'm pooty scroodnoodleous now.

I'm all right and a arf, mate, I am, and ain't going' to rough up, no
fear!
Becos two or three second-hand 'ARRIES is tipping the public stale beer.
The old tap'll turn on now and then, not too often, and as for the rest,
The B.P. has a taste for sound tipple, and knows when it's served with
the best.

If mine don't 'old its own on its merits, then way-oh! for someone's
as does!
All cop and no blue ain't my motter; that's all tommy-rot and buz-wuz.
The pace of a yot must depend on her lines and the canvas she'll carry;
If rivals can crowd on more sail, wy they're welcome to overhaul 'ARRY.

* * * * *

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