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JIM'S JOTTINGS.

NO. 1.--DOWN OUR COURT.

(_In which Jim Juniper, better known as "Ginger Jimmy,"
discourses of Homes and Open Spaces, &c., and, puts a
practical problem to the new "Public Health, and Housing
Committee of the London County Council._")

My name is GINGER JIMMY, and I live, when I'm to hum,
In Rats Rents, the kind o' nay'brood wot the Swells now calls a Slum.
I'm a bit thick in the clear, like, and don't quite know wot they mean,
But I guess it isn't mansions, and I'm sure it isn't _clean_.

They are always on the job now about Slums, and they do say
They are going to clear _our_ Court out on the suddent some fine day.
Whether it's roads, or railways, or hotels, blowed if _I_ know;
Only 'ope they'll give us notice, and some place where we can go.

'One _is_ 'ome, if but a dungheap; if you're pitchforked out of that,
And turned loose in chilly London on the scoop, like a stray cat,
With yer bits o' sticks permiskus in a barrer or a truck,
I can tell yer you feels lost like, and fair down upon yer luck.

Heviction? When you're stoney-broke, your dubs all hup the spout,
And you've nix to raise the rent on, I suppose you _must_ turn hout;
'Cos without them "rights o' proputty" no country couldn't jog;