Don't you fancy the "Hunemployed," bunkum has nobbled me; not sech a mug! And as fer O'BRIEN and his breeches, I'm glad the fool's fairly in jug. No, no, Law and Horder's my motter, but wen a spree's on 'ARRY'S there; And I thought, like a lot of the Swells, I should find one that day in the Square. Lord Mayor's Day with a scrimmage chucked in is a hopening too temptin' to miss. More pertikler wen all in "the Cause"--Law and Horder, I mean, mate--like this. I despises the Poor and the Spouters; to see their 'eds jolly well broke Is fun, but a bash on one's own--well, there, somehow it spiles the whole joke. The Perlice wos too dashed hinderscriminate, that's where it wos, my dear boy; Wich they couldn't take _me_ for a Paddy or 'umbugging "Out of Employ." Wen that cop got his hand on my collar he ought to 'ave knowed like a shot, By the Astrykan only, that _I_ wasn't one o' the Socherlist lot. I 'ate 'em, dear CHARLIE, I 'ate 'em! They wants to stop piling the pelf, Wen that is wot every dashed one of us wants to be piling hisself. No, Wealth is wot _must_ be kep up and pertected, wotever goes wrong; And to talk of abolishing Millionnaires, CHARLIE, is coming it strong. They are like prize Chrysanthemums, CHARLIE; for, if you want them, don'tcher see, You must nip off some thousands of buds to let one or two swell and grow free. Jest you turn a lot loose in yer garden, and _that_ ain't the way as they'll grow; But if 'undreds weren't sacrificed daily to one, you would not get no Show. That's Life in a nutshell, my bloater! All wants to be fust, but they can't; Most on us is wasters; the game of the snide un's to be a Prize Plant. Then you're mugged up to-rights and made muck of, but, oh, you must be a big ass, If you fancies as daisies is dealt with like horchids, and grown under glass! Ask Gentleman JOE. _He_ knows better, he's finding it out more and more, And his Radical rot about "ransom" won't turn up agen; it don't score. "Law and Horder's" the tip I can tell yer. I'm on to it fairly for one, And there's ony one thing I finds fault with; they _do_ rayther bunnick up Fun! If heverythink's on the Q.T., and a Peeler is always at 'and-- And _that's_ Law and Horder you bet, as beknown to the rich and the grand-- It's O.K. for the 'olders of ochre, who, if they've a mind for a spree, Can always palm-oil Mr. Peeler, and do it _upon_ the Q.T. But hus, CHARLIE, hus? I likes Horder, and likeways I'm partial to Law, Wen it means keeping _my_ swim all clear, and a muzzling my henemy's jaw. Wy, nothink could easy be nicerer, then, don'tcher see, dear old pal; But supposing that game interferes with _my_ larks, or _my_ lush, or _my_ gal?