Go home and get your supper, or your wife will—Oh dear me!
It’s very wrong for great big men to use a great big D.”
The curses on his ready tongue burst forth as buds in spring;
His bosom swelled with anger, and he swore like anything!
I listened; and, between his oaths, he said “Upon my life,
I haven’t got no supper, and I haven’t got no wife!
“My wife is dead, and I have been in quod since Sixty-two,
I’ve got no work to do-oo-oo, I’ve got no work to do,
I haven’t had this blessed day a mouthful or a drop;
I haven’t got a bloomin’ thing (so ’elp me!) I can ‘pop.’