Where happy dossers come each night, and doss upon the stair.
I’ve done it many times and oft;—but never mind ’bout me,
It’s of Bill Basher I would jaw this arternoon, d’ye see?
The “Terror o’ the Rents” he was, and well deserved the name,
And yet, I hold, his heart was soft and tender all the same.
He couldn’t bear no cant, poor Bill, and humbug driv him wild,
They made a savage of a chap as was by nature mild;
And so it came to pass as he would always have his knife
Into a cove as paid his way and lived a decent life.
Joe Tomkins, he was one o’ these—a mean and sneaking cuss,