The Vulgar Little Boy.
Mr. Simpkinson’s Misadventure in London.
I was in London last July; I walked into the Strand;
I saw a vulgar little boy—a broom was in his hand;
The dirt upon his youthful face was quite against all rule,
I said, “You vulgar little boy, why don’t you go to school?”
He laughed, that vulgar little boy—a roguish laugh had he—
He said, “The School Board schools are not for vulgar boys like me.”
He put his finger to his nose his impudence to crown,
And asked me “if I could’nt give a little kid a brown?”