Musa Pedestris - Three Centuries of Canting Songs and Slang Rhymes [1536 - 1896] Part 25

And for vot you vants, I begs you'll call."

VII

But now the beaks are on the scene, [22]

And watched by moonlight where we went:-- Stagged us a toddling into the ken, [23]

And were down upon us all; and then Who should I spy but the slap-up spark [24]

What I eased of the swag in St James's Park. [25]

VIII

There's a time, says King Sol, to dance and sing; I know there's a time for another thing: There's a time to pipe, and a time to snivel-- I wish all Charlies and beaks at the divel: [26]

For they grabbed me on the prigging lay, And I know I'm booked for Bot'ny Bay. [27]

[1: pickpockets]

[2: thieving game; thieves' rendezvous]

[3: drinking gin; porter]

[4: evening; sun]

[5: pocket-books; watches; handkerchiefs; money]

[6: plunder]

[7: police]

[8: run; before they see you]

[9: well-dressed]

[10: stolen his pocketbook and watch]

[11: run]

[12: thieves]

[13: house]

[14: plunder; coin]

[15: give you a half-penny]

[16: woman]

[17: known; men; mistress]

[18: safe to trust]

[19: pickpockets; burglers]

[20: of our band]

[21: a cheery greeting]

[22: police]

[23: saw us going]

[24: dandy]

[25: robbed of the plunder]

[26: police and magistrates]

[27: transported]

THE LAG'S LAMENT [1829]

[By H. T. R. in _Vidocq's Memoirs_, Vol III. 169].

I

Happy the days when I vorked away, In my usual line in the prigging lay, [1]

Making from this, and that, and t'other, A tidy living without any bother: When my little crib was stored with swag, [2]

And my cly vas a veil-lined money bag, [3]

Jolly vas I, for I feared no evil, Funked at naught, and pitched care to the devil.

II

I had, beside my blunt, my blowen, [4]

'So gay, so nutty and so knowing' [5]

On the wery best of grub we lived, [6]

And sixpence a quartern for gin I gived; My toggs was the sportingst blunt could buy, [7]

And a slap-up out-and-outer was I.

Vith my mot on my arm, and my tile on my head, [8]

'That ere's a gemman' every von said.

III

A-coming avay from Wauxhall von night, I cleared out a muzzy cove quite; [9]

He'd been a strutting avay like a king, And on his digit he sported a ring, A di'mond sparkler, flash and knowing, Thinks I, I'll vatch the vay he's going, And fleece my gemman neat and clever, So, at least I'll try my best endeavour.

IV

A'ter, the singing and fire-vorks vas ended, I follows my gemman the vay he tended; In a dark corner I trips up his heels, Then for his tattler and reader I feels, [10]

I pouches his blunt, and I draws his ring, [11]

Prigged his buckles and every thing, And saying, "I thinks as you can't follow, man,"

I pikes me off to Ikey Soloman. [12]

V

Then it happened, d'ye see, that my mot, Yellow a-bit about the swag that I'd got, Thinking that I should jeer and laugh, Although I never tips no chaff [13]

Tries her hand at the downy trick, And prigs in a shop, but precious quick "Stop thief!" was the cry, and she vas taken I cuts and runs and saves my bacon.

VI

"Then," says he, says Sir Richard Birnie, [14]

"I adwise you to nose on your pals, and turn the [15]

Snitch on the gang, that'll be the best vay [16]

To save your scrag." Then, without delay, [17]

He so prewailed on the treach'rous varmint That she was noodled by the Bow St. sarmint [18]

Then the beaks they grabbed me, and to prison I vas dragged [19]

And for fourteen years of my life I vas lagged. [20]

VII

My mot must now be growing old, And so am I if the truth be told; But the only vay to get on in the vorld, Is to go with the stream, and however ve're twirld, To bear all rubs; and ven ve suffer To hope for the smooth ven ve feels the rougher, Though very hard, I confess it appears, To be lagged, for a lark, for fourteen years.

[1: picking pockets]

[2: plunder]