You've borrered my patriot sperrit, you've borrered a slang phrase or so,
But there's one thing, my boy, you carn't borrer, and that is my rattle and go!
There, Charlie, I've given 'im beans, this 'ere Harry, as carn't abear Cads,
And wants to put up a aitch-fence like to keep out us row-de-dow lads.
Let 'im call 'isself 'Enery at once, that's the badge for sech bounders to carry,
And then 'e may bet 'is larst bob as 'e won't be confounded with 'Arry.
THE SONG OF THE SHRIMPER.
[A correspondent, writing (to the Daily Chronicle) from Harwich, describes the deplorable condition of work prevailing among the shrimp catchers. "These poor fellows," he says, "are at sea twelve hours a day catching, and have to devote four hours more to boiling and packing for London. And yet all the middlemen send them down is from fourpence to fivepence a gallon.">[
