Are they going to hand back the swag arter years? Not a hacre or quid!
Finding's keeping, and 'olding means 'aving. I wish I'd a spanking estate
Wot my hancestors nailed on the ready. They wouldn't wipe me orf the slate.
No fear, Charlie, my boy! I'd hang on by my eyelids; and so will the nobs,
Despite Mounseer Roosso's palaver or rattletrap rubbish like Bob's.
As Huxley sez, Robbery's whitewashed by centries of toffdom, dear boy.
Poor pilgarlicks whose forbears wos honest rich perks earn't expect to enjoy.
Life's a great game of grab, fur's I see, Charlie. Robbery? Well, call it that.
If you only lay hands on your own, mate, you won't git remarkable fat.
There isn't enough to go round and yet give a fair dollop to each,