Читать книгу Adventures and Recollections - Bill o'th' Hoylus End - Страница 7

Dancin’, an’ jumpin’, an’ fair going mad—

What can be done with this wild, wicked lad?

Plaguin’ t’poor cat till it scratches his hand,

Or tolling some door wi’ a stone an’ a band;

Rolling i’t’ mud as black as a coil,

Cheeking his mates wi’ a “Ha’penny i’t’ hoil;”

Slashin’ an’ cuttin’ wi’ a sword made o’ wood,

Actin’ Dick Turpin or bold Robin Hood—

T’warst little imp ’at there is i’t’ whole street:

O! he’s a shocker is young Billy Wreet!

Playin’ a whistle or drummin’ a can,

Seein’ how far wi’ his fingers can span:

Breakin’ a window wi’ throwin’ a stone,

Then ligs it on Tommy, or Charley, or Jone;

Mockin’ a weaver when swingin’ his spooils,

Chief-engineer of a train made o’ stooils;

Last out o’ bed, an’ last in at neet—

O! he’s a imp is that young Billy Wreet!

Ridin’ a pony wi’ a rope round its neck,

Tryin’ to cross a ford or a beck,

Lettin’ off rockets or swingin’ a gate,

Walkin’ on t’riggin’ on t’top of a slate;

Out a birds’ nestin’ an’ climbin’ up trees,

Rivin’ his jacket an’ burstin’ his knees;

An’ a body can’t leave ought safe out o’t’ neet,

But what it’s in danger o’ daft Willie Wreet!

Breakin’ down hedges, an’ climbin’ up trees,

Scalin’ the rocks on his hands an’ his knees,

Huntin’, or skatin’, or flying a kite,

An’ seein’ how much he can take at a bite;

Plaguin’ a donkey, an’ makin’ it kick,

Prickin’ its belly wi’t’ end of a stick;

An’ you who are livin’, you’ll yet live to see’t,

That something will happen that scamp Billy Wreet!