If yer mother'd bin a boozer, and yer father'd got the chuck.
Of course yourn was respectable; mine wosn't; there's the diff.!
Ah! things like this ain't settled by a snort or by a sniff.
Jest fancy hopening yer eyes fust time in a dark dive,
Or a sky-parlour where a plarnt o' musk won't keep alive.
Emagine, if yer washups can, some ten foot square o' room,
With a stror-heap in one corner, and a "dip" to light the gloom;
With the walls dirt-streaked with damp-lines, outside, a drunken din,
And hinside, a whiff of sewer-gas in a hatmosphere of gin.
Some on you carn't emagine there's sech 'orrors on the earth;