“The hoarse voice it came from the statue of Achilles
And ’twas answer’d thus by the man on the horse.
“Why flog ’em and ’od ’rot em, who said ‘Up Guards and at ’em!’ and you know that nice treat I received in Downing Street, when hooted by a thousand or near, defended by an old grenadier, so no whopping I got, good luck to his old tin pot, oh! there’s a deal of brass in me I’ll allow.
“Its prophecied you’ll break down, they’re crying it about town, and many jokes are past, that you’re brought to the scaffold at last, and they say I look black, because I’ve no shirt to my back, and its getting broad daylight, I vow!
“The hoarse voice it came from the statue of Achilles
But ’twas answer’d thus by the man on the horse.
“H. V. HOOKER.”
Of parodies other than the sort of compound of the Litany and other portions of the Church Service, which I have given, there are none in the streets—neither are there political duets. Such productions as parodies on popular songs, “Cab! cab! cab!” or “Trip! trip! trip!” are now almost always derived, for street-service, from the concert-rooms. But they relate more immediately to ballads, or street song; and not to patter.
Of “Cocks,” etc.
These “literary forgeries,” if so they may be called, have already been alluded to under the head of the “Death and Fire Hunters,” but it is necessary to give a short account of a few of the best and longest known of those stereotyped; no new cocks, except for an occasion, have been printed for some years.