The Village, take a fright.

In the rookeries.

Here the sloops of war and the dollymops flash it to spie a dowry of parny; there the bonneters cooled their longs and shorts in the hazard drums.

In every snickert and ginnel, bone-grubbers, rufflers, shivering-jemmies, anglers, clapperdogeons, peterers, sneeze-lurkers and Whip Jacks with their morts, out of the picaroon, fox and flimp and ogle.

A Hopping Giles gets a bloody Jemmy on the cross of a cut-throat; the snotters crib belchers, birds eye wipes, blue billies and Randals men.

In a boozing ken in the Holy Land, a dunk-horned cutter -- a cock-eyed clack box in flashy benjamin and blood red fancy -- shed a tear by the I desire.

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