When I turn it on sharp on old gurls and they jump like a
Jack-in-the-box.

I give 'em Ta-ra-ra, I tell yer, and Boom-de-ray likewise, dear boy.
'Ev'n bless 'im as started that song, with that chorus,--a boon
and a joy!
Wy, the way as the werry words worrit respectables jest makes me
bust;
When you chuck it 'em as you dash by, it riles wus than the row
and the dust!

We lap up a rare lot of lotion, old man, in our spins out of town;
Pace, dust and chyike make yer chalky, and don't we just ladle it
down?
And when I'm full up, and astride, with my shoulder well over the
wheel,
And my knickerbocks pelting like pistons, I tell yer I make the
thing squeal.

My form is chin close on the 'andle, my 'at set well back on my 'ed,
And my spine fairly _'umped_ to it, CHARLIE, and then carn't I
paint the town red?
They call me "The Camel" for that, _and_ my stomach-capas'ty for
"wet."
Well, my motter is hease afore helegance. As for the liquor,--you
bet!

There's a lot of old mivvies been writing long squeals to the
_Times_ about hus.
They call us "road-tyrants" and rowdies; but, lor! it's all
fidgets and fuss.
I'd jest like to scrumplicate some on 'em; ain't got no heye for a
lark.
_I_ know 'em; they squawk if we scrummage, and squirm if we makes
a remark.

If I spots pooty gurls when out cycling, I tips 'em the haffable
nod;
Wy not? If a gent carn't be civil without being scowled at, it's
hodd.
Ah! and some on 'em tumble, I tell yer, although they may look a
mite shy;
It is only the stuckuppy sort as consider it rude or fie-fie.

We wos snaking along t'other day, reglar clump of hus--BUGGINS and
me,
MUNGO 'IGGINS, and BILLY BOLAIR, SAMMY SNIPE, and TOFF JONES, and
MICK SHEE;
All the right rorty sort, and no flies; when along comes a gurl on
a 'orse.
Well, we spread hout, and started our squeakers, and gave 'er a
rouser, in course.

'Orse shied, and backed into a 'edge, and it looked so remarkable
rum,
That we _couldn't_ 'elp doing a larf, though the gurl wos
pertikler yum-yum;
We wos ready to 'elp, 'owsomever, when hup comes a swell, and he
swore,
And--would you believe it, old pal?--went for BUGGINS, and give