brass for yer face, and there yer are, in the 'Alls or out on 'em."
"But 'ow about them Bye-Laws, BILLY?" says I. "Bye-Laws be bust!" says
he, scornful. "_Who's to henforce 'em?_ Westries and County Councils
can't. Bobbies--bless 'em!--_von't_," says he. "So there yer are, JEM
BAGGS!" In course I tvigged. Vith my woice _and_ a vistle, sez I,
they'll villingly give a tanner to git rid of me! And they _do_! Oh, _I_
know the walley of peace and qvietness, and never moves hon hunder
sixpence! (_Looking up at the house._) But I know as there's a hartist
covey lives 'ere. Notice-plate says, "Mister TAMBOUR is _hout_." Valker!
I know vot that means. I thinks as how he'll run to a shilling. Anyhow,
I'll kick him for a bob.

[_He strikes up, taking care to make as much noise at
possible._

'Tis hof a great Council in London doth dvell;
Jest vot they are arter 'tvould floor me to tell.
They're qvite a young body--not seving years old--
But they've spent a large fortin in silver and go-o-old.
Singing, Ills ve vill cure all on the Sosherlist lay.

As the Council vere a sitting in their Chamber von day,
The Westry come to them, and thus it did say:--
"Ve're off to the Home Sec., street shindies to stay,
So put on your toppers, and come vith hus, pray!"
Singing, &c.

"Nay, Westry," said the Council, "your vish is declined,
To co-operate (at present) ve can't make up our mind;
Our Bye-Laws the Bobbies von't enforce. 'Tis a bore!
But the Public must bear it just a year or two more!"
Singing, &c.

"Go to, County Council!" that Westry replied,
"You svagger no end, and put on lots of side;
But vhen plain reform 'tis our vish to begin,
By _your_ aid ve don't benefit not von single pin!"
Singing, &c.

[_His melodious flow is interrupted by a violent
rapping at the window, and the sudden opening of the
street-door._

_Jem Baggs_ (_loq._) Aha! I knew they couldn't stand that werry long.
Out comes the sarvint vith tuppence or thruppence, and a horder for me
to "move on." Valker! There ain't no Bobby in sight, and I shan't shift
under a shilling. Vell, they may say vot they likes agin the County
Council; _I_ says they're jolly good fellers, and I'll drink their
bloomin' 'ealth out o' that hartist cove's bob, ven I gets it. [_Tunes
up again._

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