You start a smart game, or a paying onesomething as knocks 'em, dear boy, No matter, mate, whether it's mustard, or rhymes, or a sixpenny toy; They'll be arter you, nick over nozzle, the smuggers of notions and nips, For the mugs is as 'ungry for wrinkles as broken-down bookies for tips.

I ought not to omit to mention another celebrated bookie of that day; he was second only to Crockford himself, and was called "The Librarian."