Musa Pedestris: Three Centuries of Canting Songs and Slang Rhymes (1536-1896)

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Priv. print. for subscribers only, 1896 - 251 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 176 - Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack? Or fake the broads? or fig a nag? Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack? Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag? Suppose you duff? or nose and lag? Or get the straight, and land your pot? How do you melt the multy swag? Booze and the blowens cop the lot. Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack; Or moskeneer, or flash the drag; Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack; Pad with a slang, or chuck a fag; Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag; Rattle the tats, or mark the spot; You can not bag...
الصفحة 177 - You cannot bag a single stag; Booze and the blowens cop the lot. Suppose you try a different tack, And on the square you flash your flag? At penny-a-lining make your whack, Or with the mummers mug and gag? For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag! At any graft, no matter what, Your merry goblins soon stravag: Booze and the blowens cop the lot.
الصفحة 225 - LIFE IN LONDON : or, the Day and Night Scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., and his Elegant Friend, Corinthian Tom.
الصفحة 247 - He from the world had cut off a great man, Who in his time had made heroic bustle. Who in a row like Tom could lead the van, Booze in the ken, or at the spellken hustle? Who queer a flat? Who (spite of Bow-street's ban) On the high toby-spice so flash the muzzle? Who on a lark with black-eyed Sal (his blowing), So prime — so swell — so nutty — and so knowing?
الصفحة 81 - So moving these last words he spoke, We all vented our tears in a shower; For my part I thought my heart broke, To see him cut down like a flower. On his travels we watched him next day; Oh, the throttler! I thought I could kill him; But Larry not one word did say, Nor changed till he came to 'King William
الصفحة 170 - The patter's all bow-wow, of course, but it goes with the buns and the beer. If it pleases the Big-wigs to spout, wy it don't cost hus nothink to cheer. Though they ain't got the 'ang of it, Charlie, the toffs ain't — no go and no spice! Why, I'd back Barney Crump at our Singsong to lick 'em two times out o
الصفحة 217 - It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul — Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars ! — It is the cause. Yet I'll not shed her blood; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, And smooth as monumental alabaster. Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. Put out the light, and then put out the light.
الصفحة 195 - Endon way: You fancied winkles, and a pot of tea, 'Four 'alf,' I murmured's, 'good enough for me. Give me a word of 'ope that I may win...
الصفحة 200 - Co doth make manages, & that is vntill [i«mm.j death depart the maried folke, which is after this sort : When they come to a dead Horse or any dead Catell, then they shake hands and so depart euery one of them a seuerall way IT THE COMPANY OF COUSONEKS AND SHIFTERS.
الصفحة 86 - Scarabee had a right to his victory; a man does not give his life to the study of a single limited subject for nothing, and the moment we come across a first-class expert we begin to take a pride in his superiority.

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