Oh, lirripi-dumple-day! I was born out Barnsbury way, An' I cut my heye-teeth early, you can bet,-- You can bet! I 'ad 'ardly took to socks, when I mounted on the box, And larnt to tyke it smilin', dry or wet,-- Dry _or_ wet! Me nyme is BOB FITZGIBBONS. I've a light 'and on the ribbons, And mates christened me the Piccadilly Pup,-- Dilly Pup. With my smart snuff-coloured bowler, and my natty button-'oler, I arnser to the cry of Hansom Up!-- _Hansom Up!!_ _Hansom-Up!_ Ah, that's the word. It's our war-cry wot is 'eard From Putney up to pleasant Pentonville,-- Pentonville. And then I'm on the chivvy! Lardy toff or mild old mivvey I can drive with demon dash or cautious skill,-- Careful skill. For the pace that takes yer dandy, when the Four Hexpress is 'andy, Will scare old Mother MIGGS and 'er pug-pup,-- Puffy pup! And to take it 'ot or easy, as the hasphalte's dry or greasy, Is the diplymattic dodge of Hansom Up!-- Hansom Up! For to tool a dashing Forder, rubber-tyred an' all in order, With hivory quizzing-glass an' reading-lamp,-- Glass and lamp, I can tell yer's none so dusty. Yer old Growler's fare is crusty, With a bloomin' bottle nose, or bulgin' gamp,-- Green old gamp. But a pair o' smart swell mashes, trim merstache an' long heye-lashes, A-drivin' to the Hopera, _or_ to sup,-- Spoon and sup, Is a mighty diff'rent matter, an' yer drives up clitter-clatter, When you 'ears the Capting's 'orty Hansom Up!-- Hansom _Up!_ Ah! to twig 'em tittivating in the mirrors, while you're waiting For the Bobby in a Piccadilly block,-- Dilly block. Or a-dabbin' lips and noses with soft puffs, as smells o' roses, Or a readin' yaller books as some might shock,-- Scare or shock, Is particularly funny, and sech fares means--mostly--money. Wy sometimes yer'll git a tip for Stakes or Cup,-- Stakes or Cup, From a covert-coated dandy, or a weed or nip of brandy, When there's _winning_ in 'is 'ail of Hansom Up!-- Hansom Up!