You can see 'em choke, and blink the heye
At "the man wot smokes the rank Two-D cigar, oh!"
I paternise the Promenards on a Sunday, with the Swells,
With my topper on the skew,
And my cloud a-blowin' blue;
For a tuppenny smoke and a leary joke they nobble the mam'selles,
And if they're nuts on me, wot can I do?
Yus, if they're arter me, wot can I do?
Chorus.
As I swagger and swell along Pell-Mell,