Newgate Street

                      Teun--"The Postman's Knock."

                      The day's just begun, an' a bright bleezin sun
                      Sends a fine dazzlin lustor a' roond,
                      When i' famed Newgate Street a' the jolly dogs meet,
                      An' a' the beer-hooses surroond;
                      Thor'sa greet race the day, so they a' myek thor stay,
                      Te get on, an' wiat for the news,
                      That te sum 'ill be glad, an' te uthers be sad,
                      An' a lot o' queer feelins infuse.

                      Korus.
                      Laffin an' chaffin when movin alang,
                      Tippin an' tiplin's the way wi' the thrang,
                      Ivry day-frae morning te neet,
                      The sportin lads muster i' Newgate Street

                      Iv a small groop o' three, that seem lickt what te de,
                      Anxshus whispors yor sartin te hear,
                      "It's a deed sartinty!" says one i' the three,
                      "Frev a jockey aw heerd it aw'll sweer,
                      Just back thing-a-bob, an' ye'll find that me gob
                      For tippin's a reggilor don!"
                      When a brave luckin pollis, hard up for a case,
                      Cums up, an' tells them te MOVE ON!

                      It's dinner-time noo, an' a dark luckin few
                      Frae the fact'ries that's a' roond aboot,
                      Cum up iv a hurry, beukmakers te worry,
                      An' lay a' thor pocket-brass oot;
                      "Cum hinny, " says one, "will ye lay three te one?
                      It's nearly Two noo for me wark!"
                      Then the chep wi' the beuk, wiv a droll kind o'luck,
                      Says"Aw'll lay ye'd, but mind ye keep't dark!"

                      "Whe's that wild-luckin man wi' the beuk iv his hand,
                      That's ravin as if he wes mad?"
                      "Whey, it's Dayvis, the preecher, that meddlin aud feul,
                      His impittince baffles the squad:
                      Hoo he sets up his jaw, wiv a sanctified craw,
                      The whole toon 'twad greetly releeve,
                      If they'd tyek him away te Benshim sum day,
                      Withoot hopes ov a ticket o' leeve!"

                      Bliss me, what a din, it's the news that's cum in,
                      "What's wun, canny man? " then's the cry,
                      Thor's a rush, an' a scrush, an excitable push,
                      Then a change te the spectator's eye;
                      Hoo happy thor's sum, when uthers luck glum,
                      Then ye'll hear sum aud-fashion'd chep say
                      "If aw'd only knawn'd a' the hoose aw wad pawn'd
                      Te heh been on the winner the day!"

                      -Joe Wilson