Some wonder, too, the tits that pull
This rum concern along, so full,
Should never back or bolt, or kick
The load and driver to Old Nick.
But, never fear, the breed, though British,
Is now no longer game or skittish;
Except sometimes about their corn,
Tamer Houghnhums ne'er were born.
So ya-hip, Hearties, etc.
IV
And then so sociably we ride!—
While some have places, snug, inside,
Some hoping to be there anon.
Through many a dirty road hang on.
And when we reach a filthy spot
(Plenty of which there are, God wot),
You'd laugh to see with what an air
We take the spatter—each his share.
So ya-hip, Hearties! etc.
[1: drive a hackney-coach] [2: talk slang] [3: horses; whip] [4: money] [5: drive] [6: money]
SONNETS FOR THE FANCY: AFTER THE MANNER OF PETRARCH [Notes] [c. 1824]
[From Boxiana, iii. 621. 622].
Education.
A link-boy once, Dick Hellfinch stood the grin,
At Charing Cross he long his toil apply'd;
"Here light, here light! your honours for a win," [1]
To every cull and drab he loudly cried. [2]
In Leicester Fields, as most the story know,
"Come black your worship for a single mag," [3]
And while he shin'd his Nelly suck'd the bag, [4]
And thus they sometimes stagg'd a precious go. [5]
In Smithfield, too, where graziers' flats resort,
He loiter'd there to take in men of cash,
With cards and dice was up to ev'ry sport,
And at Saltpetre Bank would cut a dash;
A very knowing rig in ev'ry gang, [6]
Dick Hellfinch was the pick of all the slang. [7]
Progress.
His Nell sat on Newgate steps, and scratch'd her poll,
Her eyes suffus'd with tears, and bung'd with gin;
The Session's sentence wrung her to the soul,
Nor could she lounge the gag to shule a win;
The knowing bench had tipp'd her buzer queer, [8]
For Dick had beat the hoof upon the pad,
Of Field, or Chick-lane—was the boldest lad
That ever mill'd the cly, or roll'd the leer. [9]
And with Nell he kept a lock, to fence, and tuz,
And while his flaming mot was on the lay,
With rolling kiddies, Dick would dive and buz,
And cracking kens concluded ev'ry day; [10]
But fortune fickle, ever on the wheel,
Turn'd up a rubber, for these smarts to feel.