 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
“CRIP” NAT.
Small “Crip” Nat goes on crutches,
And whistles a song
As he hobbles along
Quite regardless of smutches
Through rain and the mire and the down-beaten smoke,
Brimming over with merriment and the last joke;
He's a pure-bred albino
And horribly lame,
But he loves the casino
And any wild game;
If you want the new ditty just rattled off pat,
Merely go to Whitechapel and ask for “Crip” Nat.
And whistles a song
As he hobbles along
Quite regardless of smutches
Through rain and the mire and the down-beaten smoke,
Brimming over with merriment and the last joke;
He's a pure-bred albino
And horribly lame,
But he loves the casino
And any wild game;
If you want the new ditty just rattled off pat,
Merely go to Whitechapel and ask for “Crip” Nat.
Small “Crip” Nat will out-cozen
Old Moses the Jew,
Though his chattels are few
And his years not a dozen:
He is cunning incarnate, and no one can steal
Half as smartly as he or surpass in a “deal.”
Ah, his sticks are a treasure
To him in hard cash,
If you once feel their measure
You'll know they are ash;
Though they say that in dancing he shines as in chat,
And there is nothing wrong in his legs with “Crip” Nat.
Old Moses the Jew,
Though his chattels are few
And his years not a dozen:
He is cunning incarnate, and no one can steal
Half as smartly as he or surpass in a “deal.”
Ah, his sticks are a treasure
To him in hard cash,
If you once feel their measure
You'll know they are ash;
Though they say that in dancing he shines as in chat,
And there is nothing wrong in his legs with “Crip” Nat.
473
Small “Crip” Nat has a curly
Round head, and his face
Is one comic grimace,
And whoe'er saw him surly?
His hair ev'ry morning is carefully groomed,
With a brush that as rubbish might long have been doomed;
Though the three or four bristles
Yet left are a joy,
As he carelessly whistles,
And no vulgar toy;
And he deems no possession is finer than that,
Which makes almost a gentleman funny “Crip” Nat.
Round head, and his face
Is one comic grimace,
And whoe'er saw him surly?
His hair ev'ry morning is carefully groomed,
With a brush that as rubbish might long have been doomed;
Though the three or four bristles
Yet left are a joy,
As he carelessly whistles,
And no vulgar toy;
And he deems no possession is finer than that,
Which makes almost a gentleman funny “Crip” Nat.
Small “Crip” Nat is too heedless
In judgments of life,
And declares that a wife
Is expensive and needless;
A luxury meant for the titled and rich,
Folks not bred in the gutter and born in a ditch;
While, if most eggs are addled
And doubtful is bliss,
He declines to be saddled
With bondage like this;
And he thinks that, if liberty can't turn him fat,
There is less hope in marriage—at least for “Crip” Nat.
In judgments of life,
And declares that a wife
Is expensive and needless;
A luxury meant for the titled and rich,
Folks not bred in the gutter and born in a ditch;
While, if most eggs are addled
And doubtful is bliss,
He declines to be saddled
With bondage like this;
And he thinks that, if liberty can't turn him fat,
There is less hope in marriage—at least for “Crip” Nat.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |