At the door on fine spring evenings,
Played the little Drop o' Wather;
Heard the cry of "Buy my inguns!"
Heard the cry "Young raddyshees, yere"
Calls of cadger, costermonger;
"Bilin'-apples!" said the huckster;
"Pies-all 'ot!" still said the pieman.
Saw the pot-boy, Wall-eyed Tommy,
Trudging through the dusk of evening,
With the shrillness of his whistle