Now I'll tell you how it happened. He was preachin' down at Brum, He was billed just like a circus, you should see the people come, The chapel it was crowded, and in the fore- most row, There was half a dozen bruisers who'd a grudge at Bendigo. There was Tommy Piatt of Bradford, Solly Jones of Perry Bar, Long Connor from the Bull Ring, the same wot drew with Carr, Jack Ball the fightin gunsmith, Joe Mur- phy from the Mews, And Iky Moss, the bettin' boss, the Champion of the Jews. A very pretty handful a-sittin' in a string, Full of beer and impudence, ripe for any- thing, Sittin' in a string there, right under Bendy's nose, If his message was for sinners, he could make a start on those. Soon he heard them chaflin'; "Hi, Bendy! Here's a go!" "How much are you coppin' by this Jump to Glory show?" "Stow it, Bendy! Left the ring! Mighty spry of you! Didn't everybody know the ring was leavin' you." Bendy fairly sweated as he stood above and prayed, "Look down, O Lord, and grip me with a strangle hold!" he said. "Fix me with a strangle hold! Put a stop on me! I'm slippin', Lord, I'm slippin' and I'm clingin' hard to Thee!" But the roughs they kept on chaffin' and the uproar it was such That the preacher in the pulpit might be talkin' double Dutch, Till a workin' man he shouted out, a- jumpin' to his feet, "Give us a lead, your reverence, and heave 'em in the street." Then Bendy said, "Good Lord, since first I left my sinful ways, Thou knowest that to Thee alone I've given up my days, But now, dear Lord"—and here he laid his Bible on the shelf— "I'll take, with your permission, just five minutes for myself." He vaulted from the pulpit like a tiger from a den, They say it was a lovely sight to see him floor his men; Right and left, and left and right, straight and true and hard, Till the Ebenezer Chapel looked more like a knacker's yard. Platt was standin' on his back and lookup at his toes, Solly Jones of Perry Bar was feelin' for his nose, Connor of the Bull Ring had all that he could do Rakin' for his ivories that lay about the pew. Jack Ball the fightin' gunsmith was in a peaceful sleep, Joe Murphy lay across him, all tied up in a heap, Five of them was twisted in a tangle on the floor, And Iky Moss, the bettin' boss, had sprinted for the door.