I’m a Constable in my own right,
I think that I am of some use;
A searching by day and by night;
Correcting of every abuse.
I carries my staff in my hand,
My power to let the folks see;
I’m certain all over the land
There’s no one so busy as me.
And I’m a Constable, &c.
A Beggar I know by his rags,
A thief I can tell by his looks;
My eyes and my nose never flags,
I puts ’em down in my black books;
The blind beggars when they sees me
A coming ne’er stops to stand still;
Tho’ ever so lame, they walk free,
Or else they would walk to the mill.
For I’m a Constable, &c.
The Publicans all are polite,
As soon as they sees me come in,
They press, and entreat, and invite
To choose of rum, brandy, or gin;
But from me they gets a rebuff,
The offer I always decline;
I scorns to take such vile stuff,
As I never drinks nothing but wine.
And I’m a Constable, &c.
The Watchmen don’t dare go to sleep,
They knows they’d be fined if they do;
Round with the Patroles I creep,
Each morning between one and two.
The Patrole’s don’t like it, ’tis true,
But of me they all are afraid,
And I’m resolved my duty to do,
For I know there’s some cash to be made.
For I’m a Constable, &c.
Old women who sits with the fruit,
Had better not come in my claw;
I pulls ’em up——won’t let ’em do’t,
Because ’tis contrary to law:
Such nuisances ought to be fin’d
And I get a share of the pelf;
My trouble I never don’t mind,
’Cause I keeps a green-grocer’s myself.
And I’m a Constable, &c.
The Watch-house owns me for its king,
I reigns there without a control;
If any blackguards they bring,
I sends ’em down to the black hole;
But if a gentleman gets drunk, so free,
And is brought in——mayhap for a whim
If he behaves genteel to me,
Why I behaves genteel to him.
For I’m a Constable, &c.
When I sits in my chair of a night,
Should any unfortunate gals
Be brought in, I thinks it but right
To commit ’em along with their pals.
The Toms and the Jerrys I hooks,
And takes them to Bow Street, next day;
Tho’ when very sorry they looks,
I lets them off if they can pay.
For I’m a Constable, &c.
The butchers’ and chandlers’ shops,
What used to be serving o’ Sunday,
So shockingly wicked, I stops;
I pulls them all up on the Monday,
I shows no favours to none,
My labours they seem to prove double,
And thinks before I have done,
I shall save Mr. Johnson some trouble.
For I’m a Constable, &c.
Our Parish has got a bad plan,
’Tis always to quarrel and storm;
I’m sure I shall do all I can
To bring on a speedy reform:
Our Overseers are all quite strange,
And that any body may see;
It would make a most wonderful change,
If they all were as busy as me.
For I’m a Constable, &c.

LONDON:
Printed by GOLD and WALTON, Wardour Street, Oxford Street,
For T. Hudson, Kean’s Head, Russell Court, Drury Lane,
1828.

When again shall we Three meet,
Amongst the Swells in Regent Street?
Come soon, my boy—come with glee,
For lots of Fun—another Spree!

With respect to the publication of Life in London; or, the Day and Night Scenes of Tom and Jerry. The proverbial everybody seems for the nonce to have been pleased with the work. The thirty-six scenes from Real Life, designed and etched by the Brothers Cruikshank had much to do with its success, and everybody seems to have made a great deal of money out of the circumstance—save and except the author, Pierce Egan, for he very loudly and frequently, and also “cry-baby-like,” declared inter alia, that he received—“more of the kicks than the halfpence” by reason of the Pirates and Thieves being ever on the alert to prig his thoughts and ideas, and that the whole crew of them united to grab all the “lively things!” out of his head, and so render the “cash account” at his bankers all but nugatory. Then—“came the cry of immorality, so loudly raised by the Actor’s old rivals the Religious Tract Society, the Methodists, and other sectarian parties.” Yet, in spite of all that could be said or sung in the matter Pierce wrote that—“he was too game to be made a dummy of: therefore he was determined to take the leap, and have another “shy-up,” and go “double or quits,” with that supreme goddess of the gods FAME!!! and try his luck once more in the field of literature and announced the publication of his new work The Finish thus:—

The AUTHOR to the READERS of
LIFE
IN and OUT of LONDON.

After the lapse of Seven Years the Author has once more seized hold of the feather, and the Artist his pencil, with an earnest endeavour to follow the advice of our immortal bard, or rather adopt him as a model, “nothing to extenuate, or set down aught in malice!” and:—

To hold as ’twere
The Mirror up to Nature; to show Virtue her own feature,
Vice her own image, and the very age
And body of the Time, its form and pressure.

Then thus it is—the “glorious uncertainty” of pleasing every class of society respecting a knowledge of Life in London being essential towards the improvement of the junior branches of mankind; and although contrary to the established and sapient rules of the College of Physicians, and the practice pursued by our learned friends in Westminster Hall, we are, nevertheless, anxious to give advice without a fee, in order to prove that, in all cases, whether connected with youth or more mature age, Prevention is much better than Cure; indeed, so anxious are we to set ourselves right with the public, as to our future intentions respecting this work, and that we may see our way clearly, and tread on the firmest ground, we feel inclined to adopt the latin proverb so often quoted by Bob Logic to the unsuspecting Jerry, on his first arrival in the metropolis:—

Incidit in Scyllam qui vult vitare Charybdim.