NICKY SPRIGGINS did chi-ike me. Reglar nubbly one is NOCK,
With about as much soft feelink as a blessed butcher's block.
He'd a made a spiffing Club Swell if he'd ony 'ad the chink,
With them lips like a ham sandwidge, and them eyes as never blink.
And I ain't no softy, neither, bet your buttons. That don't pay,
For you're 'bliged to keep yer eyes peeled and to twig the time o' day;
But I've got a mash on flowers; they are better than four 'arf,
Them red blazers in my winder; so let NOCKY 'ave his larf!
NOCKY tells me that the Westry means a-clearin' hout our place
For to make a bit o' garding, wot they calls a Hopen Space,