But I 'old the perverse, and permiskus is Nature's fust laws, and no kid.
If it isn't a quid and bad 'ealth, it is always good 'ealth and no quid!
'Owsomever it's no use a fretting. I got one good outing—on wheels;
For I've took to the bicycle, yus,—and can show a good many my 'eels.
You should see me lam into it, CHARLIE, along a smooth bit of straight road,
And if anyone gets better barney and spree out of wheeling, I'm blowed.
Larks fust and larks larst is my motter. Old RICHARDSON's rumbo is rot.
Preachy-preachy on 'ealth and fresh hair may be nuts to a sanit'ry pot;
But it isn't mere hexercise, CHARLIE, nor yet pooty scenery, and that,
As'll put 'ARRY's legs on the pelt. No, yours truly is not sech a flat.