V

Then it happened, d'ye see, that my mot,
Yellow a-bit about the swag that I'd got,
Thinking that I should jeer and laugh,
Although I never tips no chaff [13]
Tries her hand at the downy trick,
And prigs in a shop, but precious quick
"Stop thief!" was the cry, and she vas taken
I cuts and runs and saves my bacon.

VI

"Then," says he, says Sir Richard Birnie, [14]
"I adwise you to nose on your pals, and turn the [15]
Snitch on the gang, that'll be the best vay [16]
To save your scrag." Then, without delay, [17]
He so prewailed on the treach'rous varmint
That she was noodled by the Bow St. sarmint [18]
Then the beaks they grabbed me, and to prison I vas dragged [19]
And for fourteen years of my life I vas lagged. [20]

VII

My mot must now be growing old,
And so am I if the truth be told;
But the only vay to get on in the vorld,
Is to go with the stream, and however ve're twirld,
To bear all rubs; and ven ve suffer