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, [9]
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, [10]
And sent him to take a ground-sweat. [11]
[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, [1]
One of the canting crew, sirs; [2]
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, [3]
So was brought up to the halter.
Frisk the cly, and fork the rag, [4]
Draw the fogies plummy, [5]
Speak to the rattles, bag the swag, [6]
And finely hunt the dummy. [7]