He did not seem inclined to tell at first, but said sullenly, "you don't want her do you? No? Well then that's 'Bilking Bet,' she used to be a 'coster gal but now she's on the cross."
"Oho!" said Serjeant Moss, "that's the gal as was hup before Mr. Knox at Marlboro street the other morning for snatching a lady's purse in a push."
"Yes," said Purty Bill, "but there was no proof aginst the gal. She was brought out has hinnocent as the new-born baby. She wor."
THE COSTER GAL.
"Of course, Bill, you had that done and cooked. One of those nice little halybi's as you halways 'ave ready just to suit your customers. 'Bilking Bet' was down in Wales a waitin upon her poor sick mother, who was down with the scarlet fever, and not expected to live. My Heye? Eh, Bill, one of your old tricks? But, I say, Bill, don't you get ketched, cos its over the water to Charly with ye hif I ketch ye."
This conversation was carried on in the corner of the room, from which we could see that the group around the fire were preparing to hear a song from "Bilking Bet," who cleared her throat twice with a pull at a gin bottle—no glasses here to annoy a person—and began, in a mellow and not unpleasing voice, the following slang song which is common among the London costermongers, but is seldom heard among the thieves. The song, no doubt, she owed to her early costermonger associations, before she became a pickpocket. She was now one of the most expert in London, and was the kept mistress of a well known burglar, who had, two days before I saw her, broken open a tea shop in the Old Bailey, near Ludgate Hill.
The song was as follows:
"THE COSTER' GAL."
Some chaps they talk of damsels fine,
Being angels bright and fair,
But they should only see my girl,
She is beyond compare,
She is the finest girl that's out,
Her name is Dinah Denny,
When you are out you'll hear her shout
"New Walnuts, twelve a penny!"
Chorus.—S'help me never none so clever,
As my Dinah Denny,
Can shout about, all round about
"New Walnuts, twelve a penny."
Her voice is like a dove,
And bright is her black eye,
I think she does me truly love,
She looks at me so sly.
She sports the smartest side spring boots,
Eclipse her cannot many,
And shows feet small, while she does call
"New Walnuts, twelve a penny."
Chorus, &c.
Rich noblemen may dress their wives
In silk or satin dress,
But Dinah I like quite as well
In her Manchester print, "Express,"
We're going to be wed, and then
If offspring we have many,
We'll be nuts on, and christen them
"New Walnuts, twelve a penny."
Chorus, &c.