I'm just "all there," no 'ARRY; I've the money, so I score! To a Race last week I went, And there staked a quarter's rent. Dame Fortune smiled upon me as she never done before: And now I've copped the ochre I'm a gent! Yus, now I've piled the pieces, I'm a gent! _Chorus._ As I mash and lark in Finsbury Park, With a free an' heasy hair, You can twig the donahs stare. "BOB must be a millionnaire!" You can 'ear 'em cry, "Oh, ain't _'e_ fly? And carn't 'e wink the hother heye?" The man wot smokes the prime Two-D cigar, oh! I've chucked my crib, and two-quid-screw, for betting's now _my_ walk; I do my mornin' march Down to the Marble Arch. I'm bound to spot more winners; I've a eye that's like a 'awk; I'm a mass of oof and 'air-oil, shine and starch; Yus, a reg'lar mass of ochre, shine and starch. _Chorus._ As I walk along, still "going strong," With my Tuppenny all a-flare, You can 'ear old buffers swear, As my baccy scents the air. You can hear 'em sigh, And moan, "Oh my!" You can see 'em choke, and blink the heye At "the man wot smokes the rank Two-D cigar, oh!" I paternise the Promenards on a Sunday, with the Swells, With my topper on the skew, And my cloud a-blowin' blue; For a tuppenny smoke and a leary joke they nobble the mam'selles, And if they're nuts on me, wot can _I_ do? Yus, if they're arter me, wot can _I_ do? _Chorus._ As I swagger and swell along Pell-Mell, With a reg'lar oof-bird air, You can 'ear sour swells declare, "A Whitechapel weed!"--and swear. But their narsty cry Means--jealousy. So I puff, and wink the hother heye-- "The man wot smokes the rank Two-D Cigar, oh!" * * * * * Nuts for Knutsford. In the City Article of last Saturday's _Times_, we read that Lord KNUTSFORD has joined the London Board of "CHAFFEY, BROS., Limited." What a festive board! What a rivalry must exist among the CHAFFEY Brothers as to who shall be the chaffiest and the wheatiest of the family! * * * * * WOMEN'S WRONGS IN JAPAN. [The new Japanese Press Bill prohibits women from becoming Publishers or Editors.--_Daily Graphic._] [Illustration] A Land of flowers and of Art, Which lived for centuries apart, Some years ago woke with a start; Folks, simply dressed by wrappin' knees In silken robes of dainty hue, Began to long for something new The good, the beautiful, the true No longer charmed the Japanese. So Western Art improved their lot; A House of Commons grew. Each got Boots, trousers, frock-coat, chimney-pot. "Art? 'E don't care a rap, an' 'e's," Saus 'ARRY, "sich a swell! I'm blowed 'E'd knock 'em in the Old Kent Road." You are a sight, dressed _a la mode_ O too-progressive Japanese!