“Dear Jeames,” says I, “I’ve twenty pound,”
And gev him them in Buckley Square.
Our master vas a City Gent,
His name’s in railroads everywhere;
And lord, vot lots of letters vent
Betwigst his brokers, and Buckley Square.
My Jeames it was the letters took,
And read ‘em all, (I think it’s fair),
And took a leaf from Master’s book,
As hothers do in Buckley Square.