Whitechapel is the village I was born in,
For to get me on the hop, or on my “tibby” drop,
You must wake up very early in the morning.
Now “kool”[109] my downy “kicksies”[110] the style for me,
Built upon a plan werry naughty,
The stock around my “squeeze”[111] a “guiver”[112] colour see,
And the “vestat”[113] with the “bins”[114] so “rorty.”
My tailor serves you well, from a “perger”[115] to a swell,
At Groves’ you’re safe to make a sure pitch,[116]
For ready “yenom”[117] down, there aint a shop in town