I

As Flashey Joe one day did pass Through London streets, so jolly, A crying fish, he spied a lass 'Twas Tothill's pride, sweet Molly! He wip'd his mug with bird's-eye blue He cried,--"Come, buss your own dear Joe"; She turned aside, alas! 'tis true And bawled out--"Here's live mackerel, O! Four a shilling, mackerel, O! All alive, O! New mackerel, O."