Three weeks' "treatment"! Well, threes into fifty means cutting a bit of a dash;
Good grub, nobby togs, local doctor, baths, waters, and everythink flash.
"'Appy 'ARRY!" sez you. But way-oh, CHARLIE! 'Arrygate isn't all jam.
Me jolly? Well, mate, if you arsk me, I carn't 'ardly say as I ham.
To spread myself out with the toppers is proper, no doubt, bonny boy;
But—I wish it wos Brighton, or Margit, or somewheres a chap could enjoy.
Oh, them "Waters," old man!!! S'elp me never! yer don't kow wot nastyness is
Till you've tried "Sulphur 'ot and strong," fasting. The Kissing Gin, taken a-fizz,
Isn't wus than ditch-water and sherbet; but Sulphur!!! It's eased my game leg;
But I go with my heart in my mouth, and I feel like a blooming bad hegg.