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.