Done for the things there's money in.
The stakes were drove, the ropes were hitched,
Into the ring my hat I pitched.
My corner faced the Squire's park
Just where the fir-trees make it dark;
The place where I begun poor Nell
Upon the woman's road to hell.
I thought oft, sitting in my corner
After the time-keep struck his warner
(Two brandy flasks, for fear of noise,