And I copped a thousand pounds
For a fight of seven rounds,
Which was all the time it took me for to put my man to sleep.
Ah, the soft uns call it brutal; there's Mr. H.P. COBB,
And 'is talk, which isn't pretty, about ruffians (meanin' us).
I'd like to tap 'is claret when 'e's up and on the job,
And send 'im 'ome a 'owlin' to 'is mammy or 'is nuss.
But I'd rather take the chuck
For a show of British pluck,
And do my month in chockee, and eat my skilly free;