I have not had, this live-long day, one drop to cheer my heart,
Nor ‘brown’ to buy a bit of bread with,—let alone a tart.
“If there’s a soul will give me food, or find me in employ,
By day and night, then blow me tight!” (he was a vulgar Boy;)
“And now I’m here, from this here pier it is my fixed intent
To jump, as Mister Levi did from off the Monument!”
“Cheer up! cheer up! my little man—cheer up!” I kindly said,
“You are a naughty boy to take such things into your head:
If you should jump from off the pier, you’d surely break your legs,
Perhaps your neck—then Bogey’d have you, sure as eggs are eggs!