For mate, I'm a pal of a Socialistic turn,
Wot tries to do everythink straight,
We'll halve them between us, the jewels and coin,
An' make an even deal of the plate."
But out from the bed, with a jump in his shirt,
The candidate sprang to the floor,
Said he, "I may preach, but to practice is bosh!"
And leaped with a shout to the door.
But the cracker of cribs, with a colt in his fist,