Kneading the dough is a turn-out in state.
Tapping the claret to him is delighting,
Belly-go-firsters and clicks of the gob;
For where are such joys to be found as in fighting,
And measuring mugs for a chancery job:
With flipping and milling, and fobbing and nobbing,
With belly-go-firsters and kneading the dough,
With tapping of claret, and clipping and gobbing,
Say just what you please, you must own he's the go.

II

Spring's the boy for flooring and flushing it,
Hitting and stopping, advance and retreat,
For taking and giving, for sparring and rushing it,
And will ne'er say enough, till he's down right dead beat;
No crossing for him, true courage and bottom all,
You'll find him a rum un, try on if you can;
You shy-cocks, he shows 'em no favour, 'od rot 'em all,
When he fights he trys to accomplish his man;
With giving and taking, and flooring and flushing,
With hitting and stopping, huzza to the ring,
With chancery suiting, and sparring and rushing,
He's the champion of fame, and of manhood the spring.

III

Spring's the boy for rum going and coming it,
Smashing and dashing, and tipping it prime,
Eastward and westward, and sometimes back-slumming it,