CABBY; OR, REMINISCENCES OF THE RANK AND THE ROAD.
(By "Hansom Jack.")
No. IX.—PECKERS-UP!—ANTI-PRIG PHILOSOPHY—"TOMMY THE THUMPER"'S TALES—THE HAUNTED CAB.
"Sort o' parson one time, if all stories is true."
A Cabby may be this or that; 'e's a chap as the world is much given to slang or to chaff;
But there's one blessed boon as is usually 'is, 'e can do—what your prigs seldom can—a fair laugh.
I 'ave known a good few of all sorts in my time; some scarce fit for to tool a old Sawbones's gig,
Some as smart as they're made; but I never yet met a true Cabby as answered percisely to "prig."
You look at a rank at a time fares is off, and the nosebags is on, and you find the chaps all
A 'anging around with their 'ands in their pockets, 'ard by their pet pub, or close under a wall.
They're looking about 'em, and passing the patter, and doubling sharp up at a wheeze or a joke;
They may look on the lollop, but not on the sulk, nor they don't 'ang their 'eads like a ill-tempered moke.
But life's not all laugh with 'em give you my word; summer's not all a beano, while winter is worse,
And many a chap must drive 'ard through a sleet-storm when fur better fitted for blankets and nurse.
Your fare snugged inside may be grumpy and growly, a crack in the winder will give 'im the 'ump;
But you mustn't cuss, though you're soaked to your socks, and the rheumatiz racks your poor back at each bump.
Stillsomever to take the lot smilin' 's our motter, though sometimes the smile sets a mossel askew.
Old "Tommy the Thumper"'s just left me. Queer egg! Sort o' parson one time, if all stories is true.
But rum 'ot and religion don't mix none too well, as tomater-nosed Tommy 'as reason to know.
Still 'e 'as got the gift o' the gab, and no error, 'is yarns when 'e's on, make yer creepy and low.
Tommy is one o' that mildewy sort as are gen'rally gloomy and down on their luck.
'E will tip you 'is graveyardy tales of old times, till you stand 'im a nobbler, or give 'im the chuck.
Remembers the old body-snatchers, Tom does, and the Burke and Hare yarns make you cold as a dab;
But what 'e reeled out o'er 'is rum-'ot to-night was a gospel-true tale of a old Haunted Cab.
"Gospel-true, on my davy," is Tommy's pet clincher. "Ah, Jack," 'e grumped out, as 'e stoppered 'is bowl
With a forefinger brown as a rusty old spike; "you young chirpers ain't go neither fancy nor soul.
Hagnostical lot, you smart 'Ansoms, as think you are Huxleys on wheels, I 'ave not the least doubt,
But why ain't a cab just as like as a castle to 'ave its own ghost? Tell me that, 'Ginger Grout'!"
"Ginger" shook 'is red 'ead and said nothink. Says Tommy, "Old 'Barney the Bunch' was the sulkiest sort,
'E 'adn't no heart for a pal in distress, and 'e never liked 'parting' for friendship or sport.
But what 'e most shirked was all haccident cases. Well, Cabbies don't cotton to them, as a rule,
But 'Barney the Bunch' was a bit extry-brutal; a reg'lar old flint-hearted, foxy-eyed fool.
"Bunched up on 'is box all alone one cold evening, when not a four-wheeler, 'cept 'is, was in sight,
Old Barney was 'ailed by a poor shrieking creetur as 'eld a small girl in 'er arms, taller-white,
With a small crimson cut on 'er poor little temple, arf hid by 'er goldian ringlets shook loose:
'The orspital—quick—for 'ev'n's sake!' pants the mother; 'Oh! don't lose a hinstant.' Lor, 'twasn't no use!
"Barney whips up 'is 'orse, and trots off, most deliberate, grunting as 'ow that 'is cab worn't a 'earse.
Most superstitious old griffin the 'Bunch' wos. Well there, the child died. But if ever a curse
'Ung over a cabby and cab it wos 'isn. Oh yes, you may grin o'er your corfee and toast
In this 'ere cosy shelter. But strange fares, at night-time, do not like to ride number two—with a ghost!
"All fancy? Then wy did all talk of a kiddy with goldian curls, and of wild-woman cries?
And wy did fares pull Barney up on the suddent, and scuttle with shuddersome looks and skeart eyes?
And wy did old 'Barney the Bunch' take to boozing, and wy wos 'e found stony-stark in 'is cab
With eyes fixed on—nothink? Yus, nothink, of course! 'Tommy Thumper''s a fool to you young 'uns to blab."
"She is a fare as I'd not loose for somethink."
Shut up like a rat-trap, and trotted off twist-ways, the "Thumper" did, huffed in 'is boozy old style.
A ghost-seer's dignitude does stand on end if 'e twigs that 'is cackle is met with a smile.
But I didn't grin—not contemphuously, leastways; I've seen fur too much to be big on the boast,
And this I do know, that your 'ard-'earted hunks will one day git 'is gruel—if not from a ghost.
Conscience, I tell you, can build spooks like Guy Foxes, or as the jim-jams makes green rats or snakes.
Real? Wot's "real"? Who's goin' to be cocksure wot's actual facks and wot's fancy's queer fakes?
Only your ignerant, stuck-uppish shaller-pate. I never shirk no true orspital case;
And if any ghost should make free with my Forder—I 'ope I could look the spook fair in the face.
I' ave saved lives by a hopportune hurry-up; so I imagine 'ave most of my mates.
'Ansoms are everywhere, like London sparrers, and five minutes' start sometimes dodges the fates.
Gratitude don't grow on every gooseberry bush, and to 'ave just saved a life or a leg
Mayn't mean a fiver, or even a fare, but wot flaviour it gives your next corfee and hegg!
I 'ave one "regular," crippled but rich, as I saved—so 'e says—from a fur worser fate.
Only a fluke, as I tell 'im each Christmas, but somehow 'e won't wipe that job off the slate.
Many a nice little extry it lands me; and as for 'is daughter, a brown-eyed young dove,
Well, she is a fare as I'd not lose for somethink, though bob-less; I'd much sooner drive 'er for love!
At the Aquarium the highly trained and well-educated horse, Alpha, finishes a wonderful performance by being dressed up as a nurse, and wheeling a pony, Little Beta, about in a perambulator. Clever Alpha shouldn't be allowed to end by making such a donkey of himself. One of these days he'll be beaten by little Beta.
Mrs. R.'s nephew writes from Harrow that his aunt on returning from Homburg, observed cheerfully, "My dear, I feel as jolly as a sandbag."
