The mos’ bedraggles’ ’pearin’ cuss,
Julluk a houn’ dawg all chawed up an’ sore,
’At looks he ’s licked an’ feels it wuss.
But on the quiet Bill ’e tried thet wash,
An’ said nex’ day the pain had eased
So much thet reely it felt good, buggosh,
Like some ol’ wheel thet ’s jes’ be’n greased.
I never seen a man more chipperer;
’T was plain he ’d busted thet thar “risin’”;
An’ then, jessif he ’d be’n the minister,