Leonard Pounds

With many thanks to
Ted Pounds, grandson
of the author, for
making this available.

  Yes, it ain't 'arf bloomin' rummy, sir, the fortunes some blokes make -
I'm sorry, sir! I'd finished mine! I've drunk yourn in mistake!
I'd buy another for yer, but I've only tuppence more.
Wot say? 'Ave one wi' you, sir? Well, a rum. You're kind, I'm shore -
We was talkin', sir, o' fortunes. My ole pardner in the stall
'As made a tidy pile, an' I've found 'ow 'e got it all.
'E never seemed t' do no work, an' yet 'ad 'eaps o' 'dough',
An' allus togged up smart-like, with a collar an' a bow.
Why, 'e'd wear kid-gloves a-Sundays, an' I've seed 'im buy cigars!
'E'd a big stud in 'is dickey-front wot might 'a been the Shah's!
I axed 'im sev'ral times t' tell me 'ow 'e got 'is 'shine',
But 'e only winked, and sez, "Oh, in th' humberella line".
At last I puts it straight to 'im, when we was both alone,-
"Now, wherejer git th' capital t' start orf on yer own?
You 'adn't got no money when we worked tergether, Bill?"
"Capital?", 'e sez, an' laughs, "my capital was nil!"
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