He's got a white face, and is humpy, and lives in a sort of a hutch
Smellin' strong of wax-end and stale dubbin. Him born free and equal? Great Scott!
'Bout as free as a trained flea in harness, or sueties piled in a pot.
Nature's nothink, dear boy, simply nothink, and natural right don't exist,
Unless it means natural flyness, or natural power of fist.
It's brains and big biceps, wot wins. Is men equal in muscle and pith?
Arsk Bismarck and Derby, dear boy, or arsk Jackson the Black and Jem Smith.
There'd be precious few larks if they wos, Charlie—where'd be the chance of a spree
If every pious old pump or young mug was the equal of Me?
It's the up-and-down bizness of life, mate, as makes it such fun—for the ups.