THE BLACKMAILER
by
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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