Reglar mixture of Mace, Young Dutch Sam, and a Old Pugilistical 'And!
'Ow the dooce does he do it, I wonder? I don't mind admitting it's grand.
But—wot price our Party, my Arthur? He's scoring two points to our one;
And I don't see the fun of it, Arthur, I certinly don't see the fun.
Mustn't take it to heart overmuch, 'Arty! 'Taint as I wants for to scold;
But—you play him too light—entry noo! 'Taint acos you are young, and he's old.
As you need be so precious "punctilious." Delicate 'andling of him
Won't pay; it's misplaced altogether. Go at him, lad! Lam the old limb!
His bellows can't be as they used to wos. Youth will be served—that's your chance;
But, if you play light with Old Shifty, he'll lead you no end of a dance.