THE THIEVES' CHAUNT [Notes]
[1836]

(By W. H. SMITH in _The Individual_)


I

There is a nook in the boozing ken, [1]
Where many a mug I fog, [2]
And the smoke curls gently, while cousin Ben
Keeps filling the pots again and again,
If the coves have stump'd their hog. [3]

II

The liquors around are diamond bright,
And the diddle is best of all; [4]
But I never in liquors took delight,
For liquors I think is all a bite, [5]
So for heavy wet I call. [6]

III

The heavy wet in a pewter quart,
As brown as a badger's hue,
More than Bristol milk or gin, [7]