Ten or a dozen "cocks of the game," [1]
On the prigging lay to the flash-house came, [2]
Lushing blue ruin and heavy wet [3]
Till the darkey, when the downy set. [4]
All toddled and begun the hunt
For readers, tattlers, fogies, or blunt. [5]

II

Whatever swag we chance for to get, [6]
All is fish that comes to net:
Mind your eye, and draw the yokel,
Don't disturb or use the folk ill.
Keep a look out, if the beaks are nigh, [7]
And cut your stick, before they're fly. [8]

III

As I vas a crossing St James's Park
I met a swell, a well-togg'd spark. [9]
I stops a bit: then toddled quicker,
For I'd prigged his reader, drawn his ticker; [10]
Then he calls--"Stop thief!" thinks I, my master,
That's a hint to me to mizzle faster. [11]

IV

When twelve bells chimed, the prigs returned, [12]
And rapped at the ken of Uncle ----: [13]
"Uncle, open the door of your crib