THE MAD CABMAN'S SONG OF SIXPENCE.
Wot's this?—wot hever is this 'ere?
Eh?—arf a suvrin!—feels like vun—
Boohoo! they won't let me have no beer
Suppose I chucks it up into the sun!—
No—that ain't right—
The yaller's turned wite!
Ha, ha, ho!—he's sold and done—
Come, I say!—I won't stand that—
'Tis all my eye and Betty Martin
Over the left and all round my hat,
As the pewter pot said to the kevarten.
Who am I? Hemprer of the French
Lewis Napoleon Bonypart,
Old Spooney, to be sure—
Between you and me and the old blind oss.
And the doctor says there ain't no cure.
D'ye think I care for the blessed Bench?—
From Temple Bar to Charing Cross?
Two mile and better—arf a crown—
Talk of screwing a feller down!
As for poor Bill, it's broke his art.
Cab to the Moon, Sir? Here you are!—
That's—how much?—
A farthin' touch!
Now as we can't demand back fare.
But, guv'ner, wot can this 'ere be?—
The fare of a himperial carridge?
You don't mean all this 'ere for me!
In course you ain't heerd about my marridge—
I feels so precious keveer!
How was it I got that kick o' the ed?
I've ad a slight hindisposition,
But a Beak ain't no Physician.
Wot's this 'ere, Sir? wot's this 'ere?
You call yerself a gentleman? yer Snob!
He wasn't bled:
And I was let in for forty bob,
Or a month, instead:
And I caught the lumbago in the brain—
I've been confined—
But never you mind—
Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! I ain't hinsane.
Vot his this 'ere? Can't no one tell?
It sets my ed a spinnin—
The Queen's eye winks—it aint no sell—
The Queen's ed keeps a grinnin:
Ha, ha! 'twas guv
By the cove I druv—
I vunders for wot e meant it!
For e sez to me,
E sez, sez e,
As I ort to be contented!
Wot did yer say, Sir, wot did yer say?
My fare!—wot, that!
Yer knocks me flat.
Hit in the vind!—I'm chokin—give us air—
My fare? Ha, ha! My fare? Ho, ho! My fare?
Call that my fare for drivin yer a mile?
I ain't hinsane—not yet—not yet avile!—
Wot makes yer smile?
My blood is bilin' in a wiolent manner!
Wot's this I've got?
Show us a light—
This ere is—wot?—
There's sunthin the matter with my sight—
It is—yes!—No!—
'Tis, raly, though—
Oh, blow! blow! blow!—
Ho, ho, ho, ho! it is, it is a Tanner!