Doin’ weeks an’ months in quod,
Sellin’ all ’is sticks, an’ losin’
All he ’ad, when on the cod;
An’ he’d leave pore little Sally
(Sally was ’is daughter, sir)
For days a starvin’ in the alley,
Givin’ not a thought to ’er.
This night Joe was fightin’ madly
In a gang of drunkin’ brutes,
Who, if things was goin’ badly,