His mammy was downy to every rig,-- [3] Before he could read she made him a prig; [4] Very soon she larn'd Jack to make a speak And he toddled out on the morning sneak [5] Foddy, loddy, high O.
Jack had a sharp-looking eye to ogle, [6] And soon he began to nap the fogle! [7] And ever anxious to get his whack-- When scarcely ripe, he went on the crack. [8] Foddy, loddy, high O.
"Now, my chick," says she, "you must take the road 'Tis richer than the finest abode, For watches, purses, and lots of the gold-- A scampsman, you know, must always be bold." [9] Foddy, loddy, high O.
His mother then did give Jack some advice, To her son a thief, who was not o'er nice; Says she--"Fight your way, Jack, and stand the brunt, You're of no use, my child, without the blunt, [10] Foddy, loddy, high O."
"Then keep it up, Jack, with rare lots of fun. A short life, perhaps, but a merry one; Your highway dodges may then live in fame, Cheat miss-Fortune, and be sure to die game." Foddy, loddy, high O.
"In spite of bad luck, don't be a grumbler; If you are finished off from a tumbler! [11] But to the end of your life, cut a shine, You're not the first man got into a line." Foddy, loddy, high O.
[1: child] [2: feet] [3: accomplished;] [4: thief] [5: round for theft] [6: leer] [7: steal; handkerchief] [8: housebreaking] [9: highwayman] [10: money] [11: cart; Notes]
[From JOHN LABERN'S _Popular Comic Song Book_. Tune--_Joe Buggins._].
Oh, what a spicy flare-up, tear-up, Festival Terpsickory, Was guv'd by the genteel cadgers In the famous Rookery. As soon as it got vind, however, Old St Giles's vos to fall-- They all declar'd, so help their never, They'd vind up vith a stunnin' ball! Tol, lol lol, etc.
Jack Flipflap took the affair in hand, sirs-- Who understood the thing complete-- He'd often danced afore the public, On the boards, about the streets. Old Mother Swankey, she consented To lend her lodging-house for nix-- [1] Say's she, 'The crib comes down to-morrow, So, go it, just like beans and bricks.' [2] Tol, lol lol, etc.
The night arrived for trotter-shaking-- [3] To Mother Swankey's snoozing-crib; [4] Each downy cadger was seen taking His bit of muslin, or his rib. [5] Twelve candles vos stuck into turnips, Suspended from the ceiling queer-- Bunn's blaze of triumph was all pickles To this wegetable shandileer. Tol, lol lol, etc.