_I_ want to know what's to be done.
_Me_ keep the streets clean, _me_ go poking my dalicot nose into 'oles
As ain't fit for 'ogs, but is kep' for them Sweaters' pale wictims--pore
soles?
_Me_ see that the dust-pails is emptied, and underground bedrooms made
sweet?
_Me_ nail the Court Notices hup upon Butchers as deals in bad meat?
Great Scissors, it's somethink houtrageous. I knew Ritchie's Act meant
'ard lines,
And it's wus than I could 'ave emagined. But wot I funk most is them
FINES!!!
Fine _Me_--if I make a mistake, as, perhaps, even BUMBLE may do!
That _is_ turning the tables a twister! More powers? Ah, well, that
might do,
But increase my great "Responsibilities," give them Ratepayers a chance
Of a calling _me_ hover the coals! Won't this make my hold henemies dance?
I never did like that HYGEIA, a pompous and nose-poking minx--
A sort of a female _Poll Pry_, with a heye like an 'ork or a lynx;
But the making me "Sanit'ry," too--oh, I know wot _that_ means to a T.
She's cock--or say, hen--of the walk, and her sanit'ry slave'll be Me!
Oh, I fancy I see myself sweeping the snow from the streets with a broom,
Or explorin'--with fingers to nose--some effluvious hunderground room!
Or a-trotting around with the dust-pails when scavengers chance to run
short!
Oh, just _won't_ the street-boys chyike me and 'ousemaids of BUMBLE make
sport?
Disgustin'! But there RITCHIE stands with his dashed Memyrandum.
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