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XLVI

§ 2. Litteratur des Cant und Slang.

Jerry Juniper's Chant.

In a box of the stone jug I was born
Of a hempen widow the kid forlorn.
Fake away!

And my father, as I've heard say
Fake away!

Was a merchant of capers gay,

Who cut his last fling with great applause.
Nix my doll pals, fake away!

Who cut his last fling with great applause.
To the tune of hearty choke with caper sauce
Fake away!

The knucks in quod did my schoolmen play
Fake away!

And put me up to the time of day,
Until at last there was none so knowing,
No such sneaksman or buzgloak going,
Fake away!

Fogles and fawnies soon went their way
Fake away!

To the spout with the sneezers in grand array,
No dummy hunter had forks so fly.

Nix my doll, pals, fake away!

No dummy hunter had forks so fly,
No knuckler so deftly could fake a cly,
Fake away!

No slourd hoxter my snipes could stay,
Fake away!

None knap a reader like me in the lay,
Soon then I mounted in swell-street high,
Nix my doll pals, fake away!

Soon then I mounted in swell-street high,
And sported my flashest toggery,

Fake away!

Fainly resolved I would make my hay,
Fake away!

While Mercury's star shed a single ray;
And ne'er was there seen such a dashing prig,
Nix my doll pals, fake away!

And ne'er was there seen such a dashing prig,
With my strummel faked in the newest twig,
Fake away!

With my fawnied famms and my onions gay,
Fake away!

My thimble of ridge, and my driz kemesa,
All my togs were so niblike and plash.
Readily the queer screens I then could smash,
Fake away!

But my nuttiest blowen, one fine day,

Fake away!

To the beaks did her fancy man betray,
And thus was I bowled out at last

And into the jug for a lay was cast,

Fake away!

But I slipped my darbies one morn in May

Ainsworth. Jerry Juniper's Chant.

And gave to the dubsman a holiday.
And here I am, pals, merry and free,
A regular rollicking romany.

XLVII

In einer Zelle (des Zuchthauses) von Newgate kam ich zur Welt,
Einer Gaunerwittib verwaistes Kind.

Immer zu!

Und mein Vater, wie ich sagen gehört,
Immer zu!

Der hatte am Galgen lustig getanzt;
Und hatte gestrampelt mit großem Applaus.
Macht gar nichts, Gesellen, immer nur zu!
Und hatte gestrampelt mit großem Applaus.
Nach der Würgmelodie mit Bock-Sauce dazu.
Immer zu!

Die Diebe im Zuchthause lehrten mich gern.
Immer zu!

Und zeigten mir, was die Glocke geschlagen;
Bis endlich mich keiner an List übertraf.
Keiner der Läden oder Taschen ausleert.
Immer zu!

Tücher und Ringe verschwanden gar bald.
Immer zu!

Ins Leihhaus die Dosen in großem Pomp,
Kein Taschendieb hatte ja Finger so fein.
Macht nichts, Jungens, immer nur zu!
Kein Taschendieb hatte Finger so fein,
Kein Taschenausleerer kannt's Handwerk so gut,
Immer zu!

Kein Taschenknopf meiner Scher' widerstand,
Immer zu!

Brieftaschen konnt' keiner so maufen wie ich,
Und bald stieg ich hoch in der feinen Welt,
Macht nichts, Fungens, immer nur zu!
Und bald stieg ich hoch in der feinen Welt
Und trug meinen feinsten Puß zur Schau,
Immer zu!

Entschlossen, mein Schäfchen ins Trockne zu bringen,
Immer zu!

So lange Merkurius'* Stern mir nur blinkte;
Nie habt ihr 'nen feineren Gauner geseh'n,
Macht nichts, Jungens, immer nur zu!
Nie habt ihr 'nen feineren Gauner geseh'n,
Mit dem Haar nach der neuesten Mode frisiert,
Immer zu!

Mit Ringen an den Händen und Uhrenbehang,
Immer zu!

Meiner goldenen Uhr, meinen Spigen am Hemde,
Mein ganzer Put war so modisch und fein.
Rasch konnt' ich da drucken die Banknoten falsch.
Immer zu!

Doch eines Tages mein liebster Schaß

Immer zu!

Ihren Herzallerliebsten den Spizeln verriet,

* Merkurius: Schußgott der Diebe.

XLVIII

§ 2. Litteratur des Cant und Slang.

Und so ward ich endlich doch geschnappt,
Ins Loch gesteckt und deportiert!
Immer zu!

Doch entschlüpft' ich den Ketten eines Morgens im Mai
Und gab dem Wärter einen Feiertag.

Und hier bin ich, Zungens, fröhlich und frei,

Ein echter, fideler Zigeunerbursch.

Für AINSWORTH's genaue Bekanntschaft mit der älteren Gaunerlitteratur zeugt auch der folgende, aus Rookwood entlehnte Eidschwur:

Oath of the Canting Crew.

I, Crank Cuffin, swear to be
True to this fraternity!

Serve them truly and no other,
And be faithful to my brother;
Suffer none, from far or near,
With their rights to interfere:
No strange Abram, ruffler1 crack,
Hooker2 of another pack,

Rogue or rascal, frater, maunderer,
Irish toyle 3 or other wanderer;
No dimber-damber, angler, dancer,
Prig of cackler, prig of prancer,
No swigman, swaddler, clapperdudgeon,
Cadge-cloak, curtal or curmudgeon,
No whip-jack, palliard, patrico,

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No jarkman, be he high or low,
No dummerar or Romany,
No member of the family,10

No ballad-basket, bouncing buffer,

Nor any other will I suffer,

But stall-off 11 now and for ever

All outliers 12 whatsoever;

And as I keep to the fore-gone,
So may help me Salamon.

Aus Jack Sheppard, einem der berühmtesten Gaunerromane der Neuzeit teilen wir (der jüdischen Ausdrücke wegen) ein Bruchstück aus dem Kapitel "The Well Hole" (Epoch the Third

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1724) mit:

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1 Rufflers (im Harman'schen Katalog) Erzgauner, die sich für verwundete Soldaten ausgeben. 2 Über Hookers or Anglers siche ebenfalls den Harman’schen Katalog. toyle Landstreicher. - dancer Dieb, der sich auf den Dächern umbertreibt und auf Gelegenheiten zum Einbruche lauert. 5 curtal eigentlich: zum Hofe gehörig; hier vielleicht statt: curtal friar Klosterpförtner. curmudgeon Geizhals. Wegen palliard siehe pallyards im Harman'schen Katalog. man Skribent einer Gaunerbande, der Bettelbriefe u. s. w. abfaßt. dummerar siehe im Harman'schen Katalog dommerars. 10 family bande. 11 stall-off abwehren. 12 outliers fremde, Unbekannte.

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jark9 Über Gauner

Ainsworth. Jack Sheppard.

XLIX

Jack Sheppard.

The Well Hole.

On his return to the room, Jonathan purposely left the door of the Well Hole ajar. Unlocking a cupboard, he then took out some cold meat and other viands, with a flask of wine, and a bottle of brandy, and began to eat and drink voraciously. He had very nearly cleared the board, when a knock was heard below, and descending at the summons, he found his two janizaries. They had both been unsuccessful. As Jonathan scarcely expected a more satisfactory result, he made no comment; but, ordering Quilt to continue his search, and not to return until he had found the fugitive, called Abraham Mendez into the house, and shut the door.

"I want you for the job I spoke of a short time ago, Nab", he said. "I mean to have no one but yourself in it. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy."

Abraham grinned, and silently followed his master, who, as soon as they reached the audience-chamber, poured out a bumper of spirits, and presented it to him. The Jew swallowed it at a draught.

"By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, „dat ish goot very goot."

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"You shall finish the bottle when the job 's done,' replied Jonathan. "Vat ish it, Mister Vild?" inquired Mendez. "Shir Rowland Trenchard's affair eh ?"

"That's it", rejoined Jonathan; "I expect him here every minute. When you 've admitted him, steal into the room, hide yourself, and don't move till I utter the words, 'You 've a long journey before you'. That's your signal."

*And a famoush goot shignal it ish", laughed Abraham. "He hash a long journey before him ha! ha!"

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"Peace!" cried Jonathan. "There 's his knock. Go, and let him And mind you don't arouse his suspicions."

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"Never fear never fear", rejoined Abraham, as he took up the link, and left the room.

Sir Rowland then fell.

A hollow plunge, echoed and re-echoed by the walls, marked his descent into the water.

"Give me the link", cried Jonathan.

Holding down the light, he perceived that the wounded man had risen to the surface, and was trying to clamber up the slippery sides of the well.

"Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery", cried the Jew. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. "He can't get out."

After making several ineffectual attempts to keep himself above water, Sir Rowland sunk, and his groans, which had become gradually fainter and fainter, were heard no more.

"All's over", muttered Jonathan.

BAUMANN, LONDINISMEN, EINLEITUNG.

IV

L

§ 2. Litteratur des Cant und Slang.

"Shall we go back to de other room?" asked the Jew. "I shall breathe more freely dere. Oh! Christ! de door 's shut! It musht have schwung to during de schuffle!"

"Shut!" exclaimed Wild. "Then we're imprisoned. The spring can't be opened on this side."

"Dere's de other door!" cried Mendez, in alarm.

"It only leads to the fencing crib", replied Wild. "There's no outlet that way."

"Can't we call for asshistanche?"

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"And who 'll find us, if we do?" rejoined Wild, fiercely. "But they will find the evidences of slaughter in the other room, the table upset, the bloody cloth, the dead man's sword, the money, and my memorandum, which I forgot to remove. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. It's all your fault, you shaking coward! and, but that I feel sure you'll swing for your carelessness, I'd throw you into the well, too."

Doch überragt Bulwer und Ainsworth als Kenner der unteren Volksschichten und ihrer Sprache in unseren Tagen der Humorist James GReenWOOD (auch als "One of the Crowd" bekannt). Der Leser wird die Titel seiner anziehenden Romane, darunter Almost lost, A little Ragamuffin, Tag, Rag & Co., im Wörterbuche öfters erwähnt finden.

Es folgt als Stilprobe Greenwood's ein von ihm im Daily Telegraph veröffentlichter Artikel:

Opinions of an Ex-"P.P."

It will interest the London pedestrian public to learn that a member of the pocketpicking fraternity has voluntarily retired from the business. He ceases to be a thief simply and solely, because it is no longer necessary that he shall remain one. He was serving a term of nine months; but within a fortnight of his being entitled to his discharge, there came to the prison a communication that completely altered the prisoner's future prospects. The lawyer's letter apprised John Mobbs that his godmother, who resided in Liverpool, and had not set eyes on John since, nine years before, he ran away from school at that seaport to seek his fortune in London, had died and made him heir to the tune of £ 2600 invested in Consols. "The old gal," said Mr. Mobbs, alluding thus disrespectfully to his godmother, "never knew the truth about me going wrong and being put away so many times, I mean. She always behaved stunning well to me while I was at school, and when I ran away I didn't have any mother or father although I dropped into queer company straight off, I used to write proper letters to her, pretending that I was struggling to get a honest living, and squeezing her for a bit of money. I wanted to keep well with her because I was aware that she had plenty of pieces, and when she 'kicked the bucket', I hoped she

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