A Fondling!!! Turned up unbeknownst on a doorstep permiskus, no doubt.
And then to adopt him! Oh dear, wot the plague is our Party about?
Wich to monthly to it were my pride; its legitermit offspring I've nussed
Many years with the greatest success, but to-day I feels flurried and fussed,
And my eyes is Saint Polge's fontin with tears, and this brat is their source;
As it isn't no offspring of ourn—of the fam'ly I mean, Ma'am, in course;
But a Brummagem bantling, picked hup, as were not worth its swaddlin' and food,
And I never yet knowed any brat from that source as turned out any good.
Missis G., Mum, it's all a mistake, as you know in your 'art all the same,
For you turned up your nose at the child when JOE CHAMBERLING give him a name,