High life and low life are correctly pourtrayed At Almack’s, I mean both the East and the West. The actor’s look life, they so well are arrayed, But the Back Slums to my mind is surely the best. Logic a party invites to give them a treat, The bailiff comes in and Bob’s undone; He by Nab’em is _press’d_ and ta’en to the _Fleet_, Which brings to a close Life in London.
_Spoken._--The piece being over, there’s a grand rush to the doors: then, hey for the pleasures of a soaking wet night. “Well, positively, ’pon honor, if it does’nt rain; its enough to make any one _cross_ when one’s going out to a _ball_.” “Want a coach your honor?” “Yes, drive me to _St. Paul’s_.” “What, in the name of St. Patrick, can he want at the _cross_ and _ball_ of _St. Paul’s_ at this time of night?” “Oh! bless my soul! I think I’ve broken my leg.” “Coach to Cripplegate.” “I say, look at that Cove diving at that Gent’s pocket.” “I hope you’ll excuse me, but I’ve got a cold, therefore want my hankerchief; but, as you’re so fond of _diving_, I’ll accommodate you--the Thames is near, and you shall have a dam’d good _ducking_.” “All right, Coachee.” “Watch! Watch!” “Hark! the Pianos going.” “Watch! Watch!” “What’s the row?” “Oh! only some fancy Lads, who, having seen the Charlies well mill’d inside, have already commenced milling them outside, and the word with them is
The following ballad is from the “Catnach Press:”--
Written by a Corinthian, and sung in Prime Twig by an Out-and-Outer.
In the country, our squire Had a very large book, Which into my hands I quite often had took; Life in London, I think, Were the name that it had, And ’twas wrote by Pierce Egan, That comical lad. Oh, Pierce Egan! knowing Pierce Egan, You must in your time have seen wonderful fun.
When I first came from country Into this great town, I laugh’d at each joke As I walked up and down; Till three fellows I met, They were bold as could be; And Tom, Jerry, and Logic, Say they, you now see. Oh, Pierce Egan! &c.
At night, in the street, You are sure of a row, And the Charlies are bother’d I cannot tell how; But if to the watch-house The chaps be all taken, You’ll find Egan’s heroes To be there, sure as bacon. Oh, Pierce Egan &c.