"Release these maidens, sir,
Whom you dominion o'er—
Particularly her
Upon the second floor.
"And if you don't, my lord"—
He here stood bolt upright,
And tapped a tailor's sword—
"Come out, you cad, and fight!"
Sir Hugh he called—and ran
The warden from the gate:
"Go, show this gentleman
The maid in forty-eight."
By many a cell they past,
And stopped at length before
A portal, bolted fast:
The man unlocked the door.
He called inside the gate
With coarse and brutal shout,
"Come, step it, Forty-eight!"
And Forty-eight stepped out.
"They gets it pretty hot,
The maidens what we cotch—
Two years this lady's got
For collaring a wotch."
"Oh, ah!—indeed—I see,"
The troubadour exclaimed—
"If I may make so free,
How is this castle named?"
The warden's eyelids fill,
And sighing, he replied,
"Of gloomy Pentonville
This is the female side!"
The minstrel did not wait
The warden stout to thank,
But recollected straight
He'd business at the Bank.