Playing peg-top, aye, like mad.
In the side-streets, and upon a village green you
Could scarce have looked more glad.
I have seen you fly the kite, and eke "the garter",
Send your "Rounders'" ball a rattling down the street.
If you tried such cantrips now you'd catch a tartar
In the vigilant big Bobby on his beat.
If you tossed the shuttle-cook or bowled the hoop now,
A-1's pounce would be your doom.
In the streets at Prisoner's Base you must not troop now,