Rum names? Lor! that's nothink! You look down a list, in the _Sporting Snips_ say, of the 'orses in running, And any cab-rank could knock 'oles in the lot, for sheer oddity, jumble-up, fancy and funning. Many a nickname's a yarn in itself, or leastways suggests one to them in the know of it. Cabby is like Sir GEORGE LEWIS; _'e_ knows London's seamiest side, though 'e mayn't make no show of it. Take "CODDY COWSLIP," now! Meaningless muddle, _that_ name, I've no doubt, to a fare trim and toffy. But git old C. C. on the patter one mornin', say over a Billingsgate pheasant and coffee. Twig 'is old countryfied dial a-wrinkle with sly, knowing wickedness! Lor! it's a beano! And yet "CODDY"'s got such a chawbacon chuckle, 'e passes--with them as ain't fly--for a greeno. What _'e_ don't know about cockney conniverings, _and_ country collyfogs, isn't worth knowing. Why, 'e's been _everythink_, ploughboy and street-preacher, betting-man, jock, "all-a-blowing-a-growing," Pedlar and poacher, 'orse-dealer, and 'earse-driver! Yes, and 'is name seems to tell the whole story To us as 'ave 'eard it in "COWSLIP'S" soft snuffle, when over a toddy-tot, all in 'is glory. What _I_ say is this: If a Cabby can't see, and take stock of, the life of this wonderful City, Perched 'igh on 'is box, with arf town for 'is fares, and 'is eye on the other arf, well, it's a pity. I've drove BILLY SHIKSPUR'S Seven Ages, _I_ have, and a tidy lot more as the Swan never thought on; For cabs wasn't up in the days of Queen BESS; though that _Jaques_ as a Growler I think might 'ave caught on! I've known his fair moral in stror bands and capes, 'stead o' cloak and trunk 'ose. Ah! If WILLIAM 'ad driven A 'ansom ten year--and I guess for the chance all them Venice canals and their boats 'e'd ha' given!-- What plays 'e'd ha' found ready-made to 'is 'ands! Was it DIZZY as called us the London Gondolers? Well, 'e knowed a thing or two, BENJAMIN did, 'bout Romance; a lot more than your stick-in-the-'olers. _Romance?_ I could reel you out yarns by the hour, as I've dropped on, or 'eard of from others, since cabbing; But it's only when Bobby is fair on our track, or there's perks in the wind, as we're given to blabbing. Trot 'em out in the Shelter sometimes to our pals; some on 'em, I tell you, are creepy and twittery, Just the right stuff for them "'Aporths of All Sorts" the scrap-'unting parties as calls theirselves littery.