Or they wouldn’t catch me on the ready, or nail me for ninepence. No fear!
Percessions I’ve got a bit tired of, hoof-padding,[283] and scrouging’s dry rot,
But Political Picnics mean sugar to them as is fly to wot’s wot.
Went to one on ’em yesterday, Charlie; a reglar old up and down lark.
The Pallis free gratis, mixed up with a old country fair in a park,
And Rosherville Gardens chucked in, with a dash of the Bean Feast will do,
To give you some little idear of our day with Sir Jinks Bottleblue.
Make much of us, Charlie? Lor bless you, we might ha’ bin blooming Chinese
A-doing the rounds at the ’Ealthries. ’Twas regular go as you please.
Lawn-tennis, quoits, cricket, and dancing for them as must be on the shove,