Page:The Bab Ballads.djvu/195

Rh If ever you, by word of mouth,
 * Enquired of

The way to somewhere in the South
 * He always sent you North.

With little boys his beat along
 * He loved to stop and play;

He loved to send old ladies wrong,
 * And teach their feet to stray.

He would in frolic moments, when
 * Such mischief bent upon,

Take Bishops up as betting men—
 * Bid Ministers move on.

Then all the worthy boys he knew
 * He regularly licked,

And always collared people who
 * Had had their pockets picked.

He was not naturally bad,
 * Or viciously inclined,

But from his early youth he had
 * A waggish turn of mind.

The Men of London grimly scowled
 * With indignation wild;

The Men of London gruffly growled,
 * But calmly smiled.