Ne hallion there thrimmels ma money.
’Bout Lunnun, &c.
The loss o’ the cotterels aw dinna regaird,
For aw’ve getten some white-heft o’ Lunnun;
Aw’ve learn’d to prefer my awn canny calf yaird;
If ye catch me mair fra’t, ye’ll be cunnun.
Aw knaw that the Cockneys crake rum-gum-shus chimes,
To maek gam of wor bur, and wor ’parel;
But honest Blind Willy shall string this iv rhymes,
And aw’ll sing’d for a Christmas Carol.