Ya-Hip, My Hearties!
[From MOORE’S Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress:—“Sung by Jack Holmes, the Coachman, at a late Masquerade in St Giles’s, in the character of Lord C—st—e—on … This song which was written for him by Mr. Gregson, etc.”].
I
I first was hired to peg a Hack [1]
They call “The Erin” sometime back,
Where soon I learned to patter flash, [2]
To curb the tits, and tip the lash— [3]
Which pleased the Master of The Crown
So much, he had me up to town,
And gave me lots of quids a year, [4]
To tool “The Constitutions” here. [5]
So, ya-hip, hearties, here am I
That drive the Constitution Fly.
II
Some wonder how the Fly holds out,
So rotten ’tis, within, without;
So loaded too, through thick and thin,
And with such heavy creturs IN.
But, Lord, ’t will last our time—or if
The wheels should, now and then, get stiff,
Oil of Palm’s the thing that, flowing, [6]
Sets the naves and felloes going.
So ya-hip, Hearties! etc.
III
Some wonder, too, the tits that pull
This rum concern along, so full,
Should never back or bolt, or kick
The load and driver to Old Nick.
But, never fear, the breed, though British,
Is now no longer game or skittish;
Except sometimes about their corn,
Tamer Houghnhums ne’er were born.
So ya-hip, Hearties, etc.
IV
And then so sociably we ride!—
While some have places, snug, inside,
Some hoping to be there anon.
Through many a dirty road hang on.
And when we reach a filthy spot
(Plenty of which there are, God wot),
You’d laugh to see with what an air
We take the spatter—each his share.
So ya-hip, Hearties! etc.
[1: drive a hackney-coach] [2: talk slang] [3: horses; whip] [4: money] [5: drive] [6: money]
SONNETS FOR THE FANCY: AFTER THE MANNER OF PETRARCH [Notes] [c. 1824]
[From Boxiana, iii. 621. 622].
Education.
A link-boy once, Dick Hellfinch stood the grin,
At Charing Cross he long his toil apply’d;
“Here light, here light! your honours for a win,” [1]
To every cull and drab he loudly cried. [2]
In Leicester Fields, as most the story know,
“Come black your worship for a single mag,” [3]
And while he shin’d his Nelly suck’d the bag, [4]
And thus they sometimes stagg’d a precious go. [5]
In Smithfield, too, where graziers’ flats resort,
He loiter’d there to take in men of cash,
With cards and dice was up to ev’ry sport,
And at Saltpetre Bank would cut a dash;
A very knowing rig in ev’ry gang, [6]
Dick Hellfinch was the pick of all the slang. [7]
Progress.
His Nell sat on Newgate steps, and scratch’d her poll,
Her eyes suffus’d with tears, and bung’d with gin;
The Session’s sentence wrung her to the soul,
Nor could she lounge the gag to shule a win;
The knowing bench had tipp’d her buzer queer, [8]
For Dick had beat the hoof upon the pad,
Of Field, or Chick-lane—was the boldest lad
That ever mill’d the cly, or roll’d the leer. [9]
And with Nell he kept a lock, to fence, and tuz,
And while his flaming mot was on the lay,
With rolling kiddies, Dick would dive and buz,
And cracking kens concluded ev’ry day; [10]
But fortune fickle, ever on the wheel,
Turn’d up a rubber, for these smarts to feel.
Triumph.
Both’ring the flats assembled round the quod, [11]
The queerum queerly smear’d with dirty black; [12]
The dolman sounding, while the sheriff’s nod,
Prepare the switcher to dead book the whack,
While in a rattle sit two blowens flash, [13]
Salt tears fast streaming from each bungy eye;
To nail the ticker, or to mill the cly [14]
Through thick and thin their busy muzzlers splash,
The mots lament for Tyburn’s merry roam,
That bubbl’d prigs must at the New Drop fall, [15]
And from the start the scamps are cropp’d at home;
All in the sheriff’s picture frame the call [16]
Exalted high, Dick parted with his flame,
And all his comrades swore that he dy’d game.
[1: penny] [2: man; woman] [3: half-penny] [4: spent the money] [5: made a lot of money] [6: cute fellow] [7: i.e. fraternity] [8: sentenced the pick-pocket] [9: picked pockets] [10: burgling] [11: goal] [12: gallows] [13: coach; women] [14: steal a watch; pick a pocket] [15: Newgate] [16: hangman’s noose]