"TEDDY THE KINCHIN'S SONG."
I used to "kick" the cobbler out,
And rip up people's pockets,
Hey ricketty Barlow, &c.
And I was very fond of throwing stones
And lumps of mud at coppers,
Hey ricketty Barlow, &c.
But now I'm going to settle down,
Won't I cut a shine O,
Hey ricketty Barlow, &c.
I'll marry a gal with lots of Tin,
And won't I spend her rhino,
Hey ricketty Barlow, &c.
Oh lor! oh my! &c.
"Now, once more, and a good haltogether please," and the young pickpocket sat down amid thunders of applause from every one in the cellar belonging to the band of thieves.
TEDDY THE KINCHIN.
The thieves stew was now declared ready for consumption by the chef de cuisine, and as I at least felt no appetite for such a rich dish, we left this underground den of infamy just as a few faint streaks of the coming dawn began to gild the spire of St. Boldolph's ancient church.
"That Purty Bill is one of the greatest scoundrels in London. He is a fence, and we've got him once or twice, but he minds himself now, and we are after his tricks every day. His cellar used to be a brewery, that's why he's got so much room underground, and his game is to let out lodgings, at two pence a night, for a blind, and then they can stay all day at this place until twelve o'clock at night, and if they cannot pay sure for the next night's lodging in advance, unless they are in very good circumstances, he clubs them out, and they have got to pad the hoof until daybreak, and sleep where they can. Good night." And we parted for that twenty-four hours.
