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. O 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 aftdrst 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, look'ee, 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's we.
No: I hai n't no complaints. Stop, yes; do you see that chap,— Him standin’ over there,— a hidin’ his eves 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 ai n't no where.
Perhaps it's his bringin’ up; but he sickens 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, do n'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.
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