Unless we brought our hurnings back to them as loves us so.
O Mr. Broderip! wery much I'm surprise
Ven you take your valks abroad where can be your eyes?
If a Beak had a heart then you'd compryend
Us pore little Horgin boys was the poor man's friend.
Don't you see the shildren in the droring rooms
Clapping of their little ands when they year our toons?
On their mothers' bussums don't you see the babbies crow
And down to us dear horgin boys lots of apence throw?
Don't you see the ousemaids (pooty Pollies and Maries)