Vii

When he came to the nubbing-cheat, He was tack'd up so neat and so pretty; The rambler jugg'd off from his feet, And he died with his face to the city. He kick'd too, but that was all pride, For soon you might see 'twas all over; And as soon as the nooze was untied, Then at darkey we waked him in clover, And sent him to take a ground-sweat.

[1: pawned their clothes] [2: gallows or rope] [3: clothes] [4: drink] [5: halter] [6: candles] [7: Notes] [8: Notes] [9: cart] [10: night] [11: buried him]

THE SONG OF THE YOUNG PRIG [Notes] [c. 1819]

My mother she dwelt in Dyot's Isle, One of the canting crew, sirs; And if you'd know my father's style, He was the Lord-knows-who, sirs! I first held horses in the street, But being found defaulter, Turned rumbler's flunkey for my meat, So was brought up to the halter. Frisk the cly, and fork the rag, Draw the fogies plummy, Speak to the rattles, bag the swag, And finely hunt the dummy.