Two _milling coves_, each vide avake, Vere backed to fight for heavy stake: But in the mean time, so it vos, Both _kids_ agreed to _play a cross_; Bold came each _buffer_[97] to the _scratch_, To make it look a _tightish match_; They _peeled_[98] in style, and bets vere making, 'Tvos six to four, but few vere _taking_. _Ri, tol, lol, &c._ Quite cautiously the mill began, For neither knew the other's plan; Each _cull_[99] completely in the _dark_, Of vot might be his neighbor's _mark_; Resolved his _fibbing_[100] not to mind, Nor yet to _pay him back in kind_; So on each other _kept they tout_,[101] And _sparred_ a bit, and _dodged_ about, _Ri, tol, lol, &c._ Vith _mawleys_[102] raised, Tom bent his back, As if to _plant_ a heavy thwack: Vile Jem, with neat left-handed _stopper_, Straight threatened Tommy with a _topper_; 'Tis all my eye! no _claret_ flows, No _facers_ sound--no smashing blows-- Five minutes pass, yet not a _hit_, How can it end, pals?--vait a bit. _Ri, tol, lol, &c._ Each cove vas _teazed_ with double duty, To please his backers, yet _play booty_;[103] Ven, luckily for Jem, a _teller_ Vos planted right upon his _smeller_; Down dropped he, stunned; ven time vas called, Seconds in vain the _seconds_ bawled; The _mill_ is o'er, the crosser _crost_, The loser's _von_, the vinner's _lost_! _Ri, tol, lol, &c._ The party assumed once more a lively air, and the glass was circulated so freely, that at last a final charge drained the ample bowl of its contents. "The best of friends must part," said Dick; "and I would willingly order another whiff of punch, but I think we have all had _enough to satisfy us_, as you milling coves have it, Zory! Your one eye has got a drop in it already, old fellow; and, to speak the truth, I must be getting into the saddle without more delay, for I have a long ride before me. And now, friend Jerry, before I start, suppose you tip us one of your merry staves; we haven't heard your pipe to-day, and never a cross cove of us all can throw off so prime a chant as yourself. A song! a song!" "Ay, a song!" reiterated King and the Magus. "You do me too much honor, gemmen," said Jerry, modestly, taking a pinch of snuff; "I am sure I shall be most happy. My chants are all of a sort. You must make all due allowances--hem!" And, clearing his throat, he forthwith warbled THE MODERN GREEK (_Not_ translated from the Romaic.) Come, gemmen, name, and make your game, See, round the ball is spinning. Black, red, or blue, the colors view, _Une_, _deux_, _cinque_, 'tis beginning, Then make your game, The color name, While round the ball is spinning.