"Engaged, Sir, who by?"—"Mister Grace," I sez, artful, a-tipping the wink on the sly to the Peeler.
"Hordered me sharp for six-thirty, hay, constable?" "Right," sez the Slop. "Better try a four-wheeler.
Afternoon's 'ot, and you're not a light weight, Sir!" Oh lor! 'ow old crumpet-face slanged me and cricket.
Swore 'e'd ask W. G. if 'twos true, and 'e wanted to call 'im away from the wicket!
"Oh, shut your face and eat snuffers!" I sez; for the bowling just then was a-bein' fair collared,
And I 'ad missed two or three boundary 'its, all along o' this "fare," as 'e floundered and hollered.
"You ain't no sportsman!" That finished 'im proper, for 'e was a deacon, it seemed, out by Stockwell;
And didn't know Ladas from lucky Sir Visto, or Shrewsbury's "cut" from the "drive" of young Brockwell.
Well, I do get cricket-cracks for my fares. How the crowd gathers round with their eyes all a-glisten!
And 'ow big I feel; and lor! wot a temptation to look through the trap for a squint or a listen.