Leastways, a married woman's, Poll. Mick's 'ot on me to "settle,"
But eighteen bob a week—his screw—ain't much to bile the kettle;
And I ain't 'ad my fling, not yet. Mick's reglar smart and sparky,
But—when a woman's fairly spliced, it's U. P. with the larky.
And oh my, Poll, I do love larks! Theayters, 'ops, and houtings
Warm a girl's 'art a rare sight more than politics and spoutings.
Mick says he 'as his eye upon a "flat," neat and commojus.
Mick's a good sort, but tied for life to toil—at eighteen? Ojus!
'Ard Labour, and for life, without the hoption! That's a sentence
As 'ot as 'Arry 'Orkins's, and no place for repentance.