As they turned away, the lady elevated the hem of her rather short
garments a shade too high (as the delicate dustman imagined) above her
ancle. He turned towards her, and, in an audible whisper, said,
'Delicacy, my love--'delicacy!'--'Lawks, Fred!' replied the damsel, with
a loud guffaw,'--'it's not fashionable!--besides, vot's the good o'
having a fine leg, if one must'nt show it?'

So much for opinions on delicacy!




"NOW JEM--"

"Now, Jem, let's shew these gals how we can row."


The tide is agin us, I know,
But pull away, Jem, like a trump;
Vot's that? O! my vig, it's a barge--
Oh! criky! but that vos a bump!

How lucky 'twas full o' round coals,
Or ve might ha' capsized her--perhaps!
See, the bargemen are grinning, by goles!
I never seed sich wulgar chaps.

Come, pull away, Jem, like a man,
A vherry's a coming along
Vith a couple o' gals all agog--