Makes 'em gasp like a frog in a frying-pan. Br-r-r-r! Wot old mivvies
they are!
Got nerves like a cobweb, I reckon, a smart Banjo-twang makes 'em jar.

I'm Toffy, you know, and no flies, CHARLIE; swim with the Swells, and
all that,
But I'm blowed if this bunkum don't make me inclined to turn Radical
rat.
"Riparian Rights," too! Oh Scissors! They'd block the Backwaters and
Broads,
Because me and my pals likes a lark! Serve 'em right if old BURNS
busts their 'oards!

Rum blokes, these here Sosherlist spouters! There's DANNEL, the
Dosser, old chap.
As you've 'eard me elude to afore. Fair stone-broker, not wuth 'arf
a rap,--
Knows it's all Cooper's ducks with _him_, CHARLIE; won't run to a pint
o' four 'arf,
And yet he will slate me like sugar, and give me cold beans with his
charf.

[Illustration]

Sez DANNEL--and dash his darned cheek, CHARLIE!--"Monkeys like
you"--meaning _Me_!--
"Give the latter-day Mammon his chance. Your idea of a lark or a spree
Is all Noise, Noodle-Nonsense, and Nastiness! Dives, who wants an
excuse
For exclusiveness, finds it in _you_, you contemptible coarse-cackling
goose!

"Riparian rights? That's the patter of Ahab to Naboth, of course;
But 'tis pickles like you make it plausible, louts such as you give it
force.
You make sweet Thames reaches Gehennas, the fair Norfolk Broads you
befoul;
You--_you_, who'd make Beulah a hell with your blatant Bank Holiday
howl!

"Decent property-owners abhor you; you spread your coarse feasts on
their lawns,
And 'ARRY's a hog when he feeds, and an ugly Yahoo when he yawns;
You litter, and ravage, and cock-sky; you romp like a satyr obscene,
And the noise of you rises to heaven till earth might blush red
through her green.

"You are moneyed, sometimes, and well-tailored; but come you from
Oxford or Bow,
You're a flaring offence when you lounge, and a blundering pest when
you row;
Your 'monkeyings' mar every pageant, your shindyings spoil every sport,
And there isn't an Eden on earth but's destroyed when it's 'ARRY's
resort.

"Then monopolist Mammon may chuckle, Riparian Ahabs rejoice;
There's excuse in your Caliban aspect, your hoarse and ear-torturing
voice,
You pitiful Cockney-born Cloten, you slum-bred Silenus, 'tis you
Spoil the silver-streamed Thames for