But I didn't grin—not contemphuously, leastways; I've seen fur too much to be big on the boast,
And this I do know, that your 'ard-'earted hunks will one day git 'is gruel—if not from a ghost.
Conscience, I tell you, can build spooks like Guy Foxes, or as the jim-jams makes green rats or snakes.
Real? Wot's "real"? Who's goin' to be cocksure wot's actual facks and wot's fancy's queer fakes?
Only your ignerant, stuck-uppish shaller-pate. I never shirk no true orspital case;
And if any ghost should make free with my Forder—I 'ope I could look the spook fair in the face.
I' ave saved lives by a hopportune hurry-up; so I imagine 'ave most of my mates.
'Ansoms are everywhere, like London sparrers, and five minutes' start sometimes dodges the fates.
Gratitude don't grow on every gooseberry bush, and to 'ave just saved a life or a leg
Mayn't mean a fiver, or even a fare, but wot flaviour it gives your next corfee and hegg!