The great Ground Landlord is the great prime cause. "Yah! fiddlededee!"
Cries the House-Farmer; "Slums is Slums, acos the Poor is Pigs!"
"You try 'em, friend philanthropist! They'll play you proper rigs."
Yus, there's two sides to heverythink, wus luck! That's where we're fogged.
Passiges like foul pigstyes, gents, and backyards like black bogs,
Banisters broke for firewood, and smashed winders stuffed with rags,
These make the sniffers slate the poor, Perticular if they're wags.
Well, gents, you know, it's this way. Just you fancy yerselves born
In a back-slum like Ragman's Rents. 'Old 'ard, don't larf with scorn!
Some on us is born there, yer know; it might ha' bin your luck,