How did I get in here? Well what‘ ud you give to know...

How did I get in here? Well what‘ ud you give to know? ‘ Twas n't by sneakin’ round where I had n't no call to go; ‘ Twas n't by hangin’ round a-spyin’ unfortnet men. Grin! but I'll stop your jaw if ever you do that agen.

Why do n't you say suthin, blast you? Speak your mind if you dare. Ai n't I a bad lot, sonny? Say it, and call it square. Hai n't got no tongue, hey, hev ye? Oh, guard! here's a little swell A cussin’ and swearin’ and yellin’, and bribin’ me not to tell.

There! I thought that‘ ud fetch ye! And you want to know my name? “Seventy-nine” they call me, but that is their little game; For I'm werry highly connected, as a gent, sir, can understand, And my family hold their heads up with the very furst in the land.

For‘ twas all, sir, a put-up job on a pore young man like me; And the jury was bribed a puppos, and at furst they could n't agree; And I sed to the judge, sez I,— Oh, grin! it's all right, my son! But you're a werry lively young pup, and you ai n't to be played upon!

Wot's that you got?— tobacco? I'm cussed but I thought‘ twas a tract. Thank ye! A chap t'other day — now, lookee, this is a fact — Slings me a tract on the evils o’ keepin’ bad company, As if all the saints was howlin’ to stay here along o’ we.

No, I hai n't no complaints. Stop, yes; do you see that chap,— Him standin’ over there, a-hidin’ his eyes in his cap? Well, that man's stumick is weak, and he can n't stand the pris'n fare; For the coffee is just half beans, and the sugar it ai n't nowhere.

Perhaps it's his bringin’ up; but he's sickenin’ day by day, And he does n't take no food, and I'm seein’ him waste away. And it is n't the thing to see; for, whatever he's been and done, Starvation is n't the plan as he's to be saved upon.

For he cannot rough it like me; and he has n't the stamps, I guess, To buy him his extry grub outside o’ the pris'n mess. And perhaps if a gent like you, with whom I've been sorter free, Would — thank you! But, say! look here! Oh, blast it! do n't give it to ME!

Do n't you give it to me; now, do n't ye, do n't ye, DON'T! You think it's a put-up job; so I'll thank ye, sir, if you wo n't. But hand him the stamps yourself: why, he is n't even my pal; And, if it's a comfort to you, why, I do n't intend that he shall.