Hansom-Up! Ah, that's the word. It's our war-cry wot is 'eard
From Putney up to pleasant Pentonville,—
Pentonville.
And then I'm on the chivvy! Lardy toff or mild old mivvey
I can drive with demon dash or cautious skill,—
Careful skill.
For the pace that takes yer dandy, when the Four Hexpress is 'andy,
Will scare old Mother Miggs and 'er pug-pup,—
Puffy pup!
And to take it 'ot or easy, as the hasphalte's dry or greasy,
Is the diplymattic dodge of Hansom Up!—
Hansom Up!
For to tool a dashing Forder, rubber-tyred an' all in order,
With hivory quizzing-glass an' reading-lamp,—
Glass and lamp,
I can tell yer's none so dusty. Yer old Growler's fare is crusty,
With a bloomin' bottle nose, or bulgin' gamp,—
Green old gamp.
But a pair o' smart swell mashes, trim merstache an' long heye-lashes,
A-drivin' to the Hopera, or to sup,—
Spoon and sup,
Is a mighty diff'rent matter, an' yer drives up clitter-clatter,
When you 'ears the Capting's 'orty Hansom Up!—
Hansom Up!
Ah! to twig 'em tittivating in the mirrors, while you're waiting
For the Bobby in a Piccadilly block,—
Dilly block.
Or a-dabbin' lips and noses with soft puffs, as smells o' roses,
Or a readin' yaller books as some might shock,—
Scare or shock,
Is particularly funny, and sech fares means—mostly—money.
Wy sometimes yer'll git a tip for Stakes or Cup,—
Stakes or Cup,
From a covert-coated dandy, or a weed or nip of brandy,
When there's winning in 'is 'ail of Hansom Up!—
Hansom Up!
Oh, Rads may talk of Ransom, but give me a dashing Hansom,
A silk topper, and a decent run of luck,—
Cabby's luck;
With a bay 'oss to my liking, and you won't ketch me a striking,
Not without good cause, as some old pals 'ave struck,—
Lately struck.
Things may go a trifle 'ard 'twixt bad weather and the yard,
But that won't knock out the Piccadilly Pup,—
Dilly Pup.
On my "Shrewsbury and Talbot," I'm as right as rain—or all but,—
And there's music in the 'ail of Hansom Up!—
Hansom Up!
"Hansom Up!" I can tell yer, was chorussed a good 'un, and took most tremenjous. Collection that night—
For a broken-down Growler a-twist with rheumatics—was somethink to brim 'is wife's heyes with delight.
Oh, charity's charity, but when a Princess presides there's a extry strong pull at yer purse.
And ditto with 'armony! That's 'uman nature; we're just built that way—an' it might'a' bin worse!
"AFTER THE PLAY IS OVER."
Scene—Smoking-room of recently re-opened Old-Established Club. Members discovered partaking of light refreshments.
First Member (sipping a lemon squash). Yes, the Royalty is decidedly improved in appearance, and the audience, too, is quite up to the standard of the old Ixion plus Black-eyed Susan days. Quite a pretty house, and quite a distinguished set in the auditorium.
Second Mem. (lighting a cigarette). And the play?