"And I have promised to take my wages home to my mother."
"Oh criminy! hark to that, my coves! here's a chap as is going to take the blunt home to his mammy."
"T'aint much of it the old'un'll see," said another. "Ven yer pockets it at the Cock and Bottle, my kiddy, yer won't find much of it left o' Sunday mornings."
"Don't his mother know he's out?" asked another, "and won't she know it—
"Ven he's sitting in his glory
Half-price at the Victory.
"Oh! no, ve never mentions her—her name is never heard. Certainly not, by no means. Why should it?"
"Well, if yer won't stand a pot," quoth the tall man, "I will, that's all, and blow temperance. 'A short life and a merry one,' says the tailor—
"The ministers talk a great deal about port,
And they makes Cape wine very dear,
But blow their hi's if ever they tries
To deprive a poor cove of his beer.
"Here, Sam, run to the Cock and Bottle for a pot of half-and-half to my score."
A thin, pale lad jumped up and vanished, while my tormentor turned to me: