'Twos my own 'appy 'unting ground, CHARLIE, until I could fair feel my feet;
If you want to try wheels, take the Park; I am sure it'll do you a treat.
I did funk the danger, at fust; but these Safeties don't run yer much risk,
And arter six weeks in the Park, I could treadle along pooty brisk;
And then came the barney, my bloater! I jined 'arf a dozen prime pals,
And I tell you we now are the dread of our parts, and espessh'lly the gals.
No Club, mate, for me; that means money, and rules, sportsman form, and sech muck.
I likes to pick out my own pals, go permiskus, and trust to pot-luck.
A rush twelve-a-breast is a gammock, twelve squeakers a going like one;
But "rules o' the road" dump you down, chill yer sperrits, and spile all the fun.