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The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

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618<br />

From pickin and stealin your ands you must keep,<br />

Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday veek<br />

To pull you all hup to A'Beckett <strong>the</strong> Beak.<br />

PLEACEMAN X<br />

THE BALLAD OF ELIZA DAVIS.<br />

W. MAKEPEACE THACKERAY<br />

Galliant gents and lovely ladies,<br />

List a tail vich late befel,<br />

Vich I heard it, bein on duty,<br />

At <strong>the</strong> Pleace H<strong>of</strong>fice, Clerkenwell.<br />

Praps you know <strong>the</strong> Fondling Chapel,<br />

Vere <strong>the</strong> little children sings:<br />

(Lord I likes to hear on Sundies<br />

<strong>The</strong>m <strong>the</strong>re pooty little things!)<br />

In this street <strong>the</strong>re lived a housemaid,<br />

If you particklarly ask me where--<br />

Vy, it was at four-and-tventy,<br />

Guilford Street, by Brunsvick Square<br />

Vich her name was Eliza Davis,<br />

And she went to fetch <strong>the</strong> beer:<br />

In <strong>the</strong> street she met a party<br />

As was quite surprized to see her.<br />

Vich he vas a British Sailor,<br />

For to judge him by his look:<br />

Tarry jacket, canvas trowsies,<br />

Ha-la Mr. T. P. Cooke.<br />

Presently this Mann accostes<br />

Of this hinnocent young gal--<br />

Pray, saysee, Excuse my freedom,<br />

You're so like my Sister Sal!

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