THE YARN OF THE BROKER'S MAN
by
Leonard Pounds & Charles Winter

'You want a yarn about the curious days that I've spent?
Well, I don't 'ear no yarns except from folks as don't pay rent
Yet, strange to say, of all adventures that you'd chance to see
Perhaps you've never 'eard the likes of what occurred to me
One night, I well remember (I'm not likely to forget)
I'd ate a dozen sausages for supper, for a bet
But scarcely 'ad I got to bed that night and closed my eyes
When up I starts, for in the street I 'eard some dreadful cries
In arf a jiffy I was dressed and out with coat and cap
For you must know above all things I dearly love a scrap
And lumme, I soon found it, for when through the door I leap'
I landed right on top o' someone crouchin' on the step
Now what had 'appened was this 'ere (I finds it out next day)
  The King and Queen were ridin' past, returning from the play
When some infernal anarchist - and a foreigner to boot
'Ad thrown a bomb, which missed the King and Queen just by a foot
Then in the tumult, 'e'd made off and gone and 'id 'imself
And it was this same bounder I 'ad stumbled on myself
'E found 'e was discovered and 'e went for me like mad
I closed with 'im and put out every bit of strength I 'ad
'E kicked, and bit, an' tried to scrag me, as the sayin' is
But I fought with the strength I'd gained from twelve good sausages
At last 'e got one 'ome on me, I near fell in the road
'E kicked me 'ard just where - well, where the sausages were stowed
I doubled up but seized 'is legs, which spanned the gutter's brink
And tipped 'im head first in some mud they'd cleared out from a sink
Then p'licemen came a-running up all in a fret and fume
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