Tom-tom and sharp knife and salt-caked sail.
Then get you down to Limehouse, by riggings, wharf, and smoke-stack,
Glamour, dirt, and perfume, and dusky men and gold;
For down in lurking Limehouse there's the blue moon of the Orient—
Lamps for young Aladdins, and bowies for the bold!
A DOWN-STREAM NIGHT
BLACKWALL
Tide was at flood, and below Limehouse Hole the waters thrashed the wharves with malice. The hour was late, but life ran high in those parts. Against the savage purple of the night a few wisps of rigging and some gruff funnels stood up in East and West India Docks.