Come, all ye gents vot cleans the plate, Come, all ye ladies maids so fair— Vile I a story vil relate Of cruel JEAMES of Buckley Square. A tighter lad, it is confest, Never valked vith powder in his air, Or vore a nosegay in his breast, Than andsum JEAMES of Buckley Square.
O Evns! it vas the best of sights, Behind his Master’s coach and pair, To see our JEAMES in red plush tights, A driving hoff from Buckley Square. He vel became his hagwiletts, He cocked his at with _such_ an hair; His calves and viskers _vas_ siech pets, That hall loved _Jeames_ of Buckley Square.
He pleased the hup stairs folks as vell, And o! I vithered vith despair, Misses _vould_ ring the parler bell, And call up JEAMES in Buckley Square. Both beer and sperrits he abhord, (Sperrits and beer I can’t a bear,) You would have thought he vas a lord, Down in our All in Buckley Square.
Last year he visper’d, “Mary Hann, Ven I’ve an ‘under’d pound to spare, To take a public is my plan, And leave this hojous Buckley Square.” O how my gentle heart did bound, To think that I his name should bear. “Dear JEAMES,” says I, “I’ve twenty pound,” And gev him them in Buckley Square.
Our master vas a City Gent, His name’s in railroads everywhere; And lord, vot lots of letters vent Betwigst his brokers, and Buckley Square. My JEAMES it was the letters took, And read ‘em all, (I think it’s fair), And took a leaf from Master’s book, As _hothers_ do in Buckley Square.
Encouraged with my twenty pound, Of which poor _I_ was unaware, He wrote the Companies all round, And signed hisself from Buckley Square. And how JOHN PORTER used to grin, As day by day, share after share, Came railway letters pouring in, J. PLUSH, Esquire, in Buckley Square.
Our servants’ All was in a rage— Scrip, stock, curves, gradients, bull and bear, With butler, coachman, groom and page, Vas all the talk in Buckley Square. But O! imagine vat I felt Last Vensdy veek as ever were; I gits a letter, which I spelt “Miss M. A. Hoggins, Buckley Square.”
He sent me back my money true— He sent me back my lock of air, And said, “My dear, I bid ajew To Mary Hann and Buckley Square. Think not to marry, foolish HANN, With people who your betters are; JAMES PLUSH is now a gentleman, And you—a cook in Buckley Square.