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, He's for the scratch, and come up too in time; For the victualling-office no favor he'll ask it, For smeller and ogles he feels just the same; At the pipkin to point, or upset the bread-basket, He's always in twig, and bang-up for the game; With going and tipping, and priming and timing 'Till groggy and queery, straight-forwards the rig; With ogles and smellers, no piping and chiming, You'll own he's the boy that is always in twig.

BOBBY AND HIS MARY [Notes] [1826]

[From Universal Songster, iii. 108]. Tune--Dulce Domum.

In Dyot-street a booze-ken stood, Oft sought by foot-pads weary, And long had been the blest abode Of Bobby, and his Mary. For her he'd nightly pad the hoof, And gravel tax collect For her he never shammed the snite. Though traps tried to detect him; When darkey came he sought his home While she, distracted blowen She hailed his sight, And, ev'ry night The booze-ken rung As they sung, O, Bobby and his Mary.