Sleep, my dossy ones, sleep!
Once a swell come a-slummin’ in second-’and slops,
And my pal, which is William, the needle ’e cops,
And ’e twigged ’im a-takin’ down notes on the sly,
An’ arranged for to cure ’im o’ doin’ Poll Pry;
For ’e kep’ on a-sniffin’ and saying, “Ho, dear!
There’s a state o’ things ’ighly deplorable ’ere!”
An’ ’e cussed at the blankits, which all was ’is spite,
As the gent as ’ad used ’em since Wensday fortnite
Was a gifted an’ ’ighly respectable sweep,