In Topsawyer Square, but to Scotland Yard, strite! Then I alters my part, playing up hinjured virtue.
'Now charge me!' I sez. 'E went squelch like this hegg. 'Look ere, Cabby,' 'e starts, 'I've no wish for to 'urt you——'
"Larf? 'Ow the bobbies and me did a chortle to see 'im cave in and squirm round and skedaddle.
'Hi! Stop, Sir!' I shouts. 'For a fourteen-stun lump of fat helderly fuss, you are prompt on the paddle.
But—fare, if you please,—from your shop to the Yard! Eighteen-pence, Sir, to you, though it should be two shillin'.'
That fare knocked 'im silly, at fust. But 'e parted; and I never took a fare's money more willin'."
Chollop should go on the boards, so I tell 'im. I've 'eard 'im change patter with regular pros.
Hegged on by their lydies to take the shine out of 'im. When they've squared up, 'tis but little 'e owes.
Ah! the world's tenners are sprinkled unreglar; but talent does not always follow the money,
And many a comique at ten quid a week, though much fatter than Chollop, is not arf as funny.