And Robin, who drove a brewer's cart, he made me Queen o' the Dray;
And we danced and sung and got mad drunk on Walker's sixpenny hops,
Till the Charleys come at the row we made, and every one of us cops.
And lugs us off to chokee, mother, and keeps us there all night,
As drunken and disorderlies—both women and men were tight—
And Raffles, the beak, next morning, was in a terrible way—
Ten shillin' we had to pay, mother, ten shillin' and costs to pay.
And in default of payment,—our cash we had spent in ale,—
That Raffles he gave us all a week within sweet Walton gaol,
Where soon we learnt to pick oakum (the skin's off my fingers still),