[Pardon, good Gilbert, pardon, genial Coborn, That from the Bois Boolong. Unto the Cockney purlieus of 'Igh 'Olborn, We shift your famous song.]
I'm just "all there," no 'Arry; I've the money, so I score!
To a Race last week I went,
And there staked a quarter's rent.
Dame Fortune smiled upon me as she never done before:
And now I've copped the ochre I'm a gent!
Yus, now I've piled the pieces, I'm a gent!
Chorus.
As I mash and lark in Finsbury Park,