LVI

§ 2. Litteratur des Cant und Slang.

Gibt es aber auch keine Volkslyrik, so fehlt es doch nicht an sogenannten Volkslyrikern.

Der Volksdichter W. A. EATON (Eaton's Popular Poems for Recital) füttert seinen Pegasus nur mit der heimischen Kost. Daß der wißige G. R. SIMS einige seiner trefflichsten Gedichte (The Lifeboat, Told to the Missionary, Moll Jarvis o' Morley) ebenfalls in der Volksmundart geschrieben hat, das dürfen wir für unsere Zwecke nur einen Gewinn nennen.

Wir teilen hier Polly, eines seiner bekanntesten Slang-Gedichte, mit:

Polly.

It's poems he 's readin', that boy there; he reads by the hour and cries;

A silly young oaf to be fillin' his head with a parcel o' lies.

What ha' poor folks to do with that humbug? it's all very well for the rich

To go frettin' theirselves about wictims and fairies, and corpses and sich;

Or to go off their nuts about ladies as dies for young fellers as fights, And them Byrons, and Manfreds, and Hamlets what has ghostes to talk to o' nights.

He reads out aloud, and I hears him a-talkin' the awfullest trash About earls as goes mad in their castles, and females what settles their hash.

Potry! I'd burn it, I would, sir it's that what makes young fellows drink,

And a-leave off a-partin' their hair straight and a-washin' theirselves at the sink.

He must work for his livin', that boy must. Will wisions put clo's on his limbs?

Will Byron or Tennerson feed him, or old Mr. What's-his-name's hymns? There ain't not no potry in green stuff in 'taturs and inguns and peas,

And a-workin' from dorn till it's midnight to earn just yer beer, bread, and cheese.

Yes, I'm pretty well off, Mister, I am; but I've worked like a black all my days,

And I means as my boy shall do likewise, to keep him from waga

bone ways.

There, he 's off! the young warmint, he 's needled; whenever I talks about work

He puts on his cap and he hooks it; he 's a notion he 'll go for a clerk. The green-stuff ain't up to his 'ighness; he don't like to serve at the stall;

He fancies hisself in a orfice, a-fillin' o' books with his scrawl.

It's the School Board what gives 'em these notions, a-stuffin' boys' heads full of pride,

And makes 'em look down on their fathers these School Boards I
ne'er could abide.

When I was his age I was workin', a-wheelin' the barrer for dad,
And a-fetchin' the stuff from the markets, when hosses was not to
be had.

Lame! What, ye noticed it, did yer? Well, yes, he goes lame on
his pins,

And that's just why I stomachs his tantrums and forgives the young beggar his sins;

For he ain't not a bad boy at bottom and he'll carry that limp to his grave

He'd a squeak for his

narrowest shave.

That was eight years ago then,

life when that happened

escaped by the

how time passes! I was only a-costerin'

Not a greengrocer like I be now, sir, with a shop and a couple o' men. It was all through yon mare in the stables, the mare as ye saw in the yard.

As fat as Sir Roger, sir, warn't she? We don't make her work very hard.

That was Polly, that mare was just like a tale;

Eight years ago she was done for, her strength was beginning to fail. She'd been run off her legs in the barrer, a-gallopin' mornin' and night,

And the winter was heavy and frosty, and settled poor Polly outright; So my mates what had flyers they passed me, and left me behind on the road;

And often she 'd tremble and stagger, and make quite a fuss at a load. She'd worked like a good 'un, had Polly, and paid me agen and agen; But I thought as the critter was done for, and sold her to one of the men.

I got a few poun' from a coper, who bought her and faked her a bit, And sold her agen at a profit to a feller named Whitechapel Kit. Such a brute! but that's just by the way, sir. As soon as I'd scraped up the cash,

I bought a new hoss with the money,

I wanted to be a bit flash.

I bid for a beautiful stepper, as carried his 'ed in the air,

One as looked like the horty young hosses what noblemen drives in a pair,

I got him dirt cheap for a pony, and I reckon I felt a bit proud When I put down the ready and took him and led him away through the crowd.

'Twas a Saturday night as I bought him, this fine, strappin', flea-, bitten grey;

So on Sunday I drove him to Hendon, the missis and kid in the shay. He went like the wind; such a pictur'; the coves as had chaffed me before,

Their hi's was a-startin' with envy; by the whole blessed bilin' we tore.

And I set there as proud as a peacock, a-holdin' the reins like a toff,
And a-puffin' a great big Maniller, as set my old gal on the cough.
And up by the Harp we met Polly, a-drorin' six coves in a cart,
And that Kit was a-beatin' 'is 'ardest; it give me a pain in my heart.
1 passed the poor critter a-panting, and hearing Kit's curses and blows,
It made me feel mad with myself, like, and I hit my hoss over the

nose.

I was flickin' the whip in my anger not meanin' to hit 'im at all But the brute gave a leap and then bolted, dashed forward, and ran at a wall.

It was done in a moment, and over; I fainted, and when we found

was

LVIII

§ 2. Litteratur des Cant und Slang.

We was all of a heap there a-bleedin', and the grey was quite still on the ground.

His hind leg was broke; I was injured; the wheel had gone over my
wife,

And the boy as you saw here a-readin'
him for life.

I well, the fall, sir, had lamed

But the worst of it all was the grey, sir when a coster he loses a hoss,

It's precious nigh ruin, I reckon

there's few as gets over the loss. For his savins is gone in a minit, his food and his clothes and his rent.

'Twas the hoss as my pals went to first, sir,

accident meant;

they knew what the

And while we was sittin' there moaning, poor Polly comes toiling along,

With that Kit still a-thrashing her brutal, with a stick and a great leather thong;

And she turned her poor head so, I fancied, and I seed such a look

in her eye.

I'll swear as she knew what had happened, for she give quite a queer
little cry.

It was ruin that night in our kitching as sat in the chair by my side;
The boy was up stairs there a-groanin', the missis had like to 'a' died;
Thirty poun' had gone smash in a minit we 'd borrowed a portion

o' that

Now I hadn't a hoss for my bus'ness, and I didn't know what to be at.

Then I thought about Polly, and sorrowed to think as I'd let the mare go;

She 'd 'a' worked with a rest for a long time; she was sure, if she was a bit slow,

And just as I sat there a-thinkin'

a-cussin', and breakin' my heart, There was something came bump on the doorstep, and there was a hoss and a cart.

It was Polly!

I see her a-standing, and thought as she 'd come from the skies,

And she rubbed her old nose on my coat-sleeve, and I stuck like a log with surprise;

Then she walked herself off to the stable, and give me to know, sir, outright

As she'd thank me to take off the harness and make up her bed for the night.

And she 's been my right hand to this day, sir, and things 'as gone well with me, too,

And I've turned up the street

well to do.

Didn't Kit come to claim her?
best of the tale:

He was collared for something at Hendon, and walked off that minit to gaol.

It seems he was nought but a bad 'un; he 'd been cracking a crib, so

they say,

And the peelers was put on his traces, and they copped him at Hendon

that day.

They copped him inside a-refreshing, and took him away there and then

'Arry at a Political Pic-nic.

LIX

And Polly she stood there a-waiting, but they 'd bolted away had

the men.

She waited, and, nobody coming, she just took it into her head

To trot off in search of her supper and make for her old master's shed.
So from that day to this one I''ve kept her, and Kit ain't been seen

any more,

And I date all the blessins I've had, sir, from the night as she come to my door.

Past work is old Polly, God bless her! but while I've a roof and a brown

There's a meal for the mare as has served me, and a bed for my lass
to lay down.

I felt when that grey chucked us over as Providence meant it, maybe,
As a smack for a sellin' a critter as had given her best days to me
Ah! here comes my Tommy a-limpin' now, Tommy, don't pick up

that book,

You'll never have nowt in your headpiece till poems has taken their hook.
What! get along with you, Mister I ain't told no poems to you,
That tale about Polly ain't potry it can't be, ye see, for it's true!

Die modernen Elemente der Rogues' Language schmuggeln sich außerdem in die angesehensten Journale ein, und der Daily Telegraph verdankt seine Popularität weniger seiner politischen Haltung als seiner Vorliebe für volkstümliche Redewendungen. Daß Blätter wie Punch, Fun, Funny Folks, Moonshine, All the Year round und Referee gern im Idiome der Straße und der Küche reden, bedarf kaum der Erwähnung; doch mag es nicht überflüssig sein, anzuführen, daß unter den poetischen Mitarbeitern des Punch der Pseudonymus 'Arry als eine Autorität für St. Giles' Greek gelten darf. Wir lassen deshalb hier ein Gedicht von 'Arry nebst Anmerkungen folgen und beschließen damit unsere Darstellung der gedruckten Quellen:

'Arry at a Political Pic-nic (1884).

DEAR CHARLIE,

4

'Ow are yer, my ribstone? Seems scrumptious to write the old name. l'ave quite lost the runs of you lately. Bin playing some dark little game? I'm keepin' mine hup as per usual, fust' in the pick of the fun,s For wherever there's larks on the tappy there's 'ARRY as sure as a gun.

The latest new lay's10 Demonstrations. You've heard on 'em," CHARLIE, no doubt, For they're at 'em all over the shop.1 l'ave 'ad a rare bustle about.13

13

1 my ribstone (mein Äpfelchen) mein Liebster. 2 seems scrumptious es scheint köstlich. 3 lost the run of aus den Augen verloren. 4 bin playing (statt have you been playing) hast du gespielt? 5 hup statt up. 6 per usual wie gewöhnlich. 7fust statt first. in the pick of the fun wo's ordentlich Spaß absetzt. on the tappy (statt on the tapis) auf der Tagesordnung. 10 lay hier Schlich, List. 11on 'em statt of them. 12 all over the shop an allen Ecken und Enden. 13 bustle about Umherrennen.

=

-

LX

§ 2. Litteratur des Cant und Slang.

All my Saturday arfs are devoted to Politics. Fancy, old chump,15
Me doing the sawdusty reglar, and follering" swells on the stump! 18

19

16

But, bless yer, my bloater,20 it isn't all chin-music, votes, and "Ear! 'ear!"
Or they wouldn't catch me on the ready, or nail me" for ninepence. No fear!
Percessions I've got a bit tired of, hoof-padding, and scrouging's dry rot,
But Political Picnics mean sugar to them as is fly to wot's wot.24

Went to one on 'em yesterday, CHARLIE; a reglar old up and down lark.
The Pallis free gratis, mixed up with a old country fair in a park,
And Rosherville Gardens chucked in, with a dash of the Bean Feast will do,
To give you some little idear of our day with Sir JINKS BOTTLEBLUE.

26

Make much of us, CHARLIE? Lor bless you, we might ha' bin blooming Chinese A-doing the rounds at the 'Ealthries.27 "Twas regular go as you please. Lawn-tennis, quoits, cricket, and dancing for them as must be on the shove,25 But I preferred pecking and prowling, and spotting the mugs making love.

30

29

31

Don't ketch me a-slinging my legs about arter a beast of a ball31
At ninety degrees in the shade or so, CHARLIE, old chap, not at all.
Athletics 'aint 'ardly my form, and a cutaway coat and tight bags 32
Are the spechies of togs for yours truly, and lick your loose "flannels

35

1934

to rags.

So I let them as liked do a swelter; I sorntered about on the snap.37
Rum game this yer Politics, CHARLIE, seems arf talkee-talkee and trap.
Jest fancy old BOTTLEBLUE letting "the multitood" pic-nic and lark,
And make Battersea Park of his pleasure-grounds, Bathelmy Fair of his park!
"To show his true love for the People!" sez one vote-of-thanking tall-talker,
And wosn't it rude of a bloke as wos munching a bun to cry "Walker!" 938
I'm Tory right down to my boots, at a price, and I bellered "Ear! ear!"'39
But they don't cop yours truly with chaff none the more, my dear CHARLIE,
no fear!

Old BOTTLEBLUE tipped me his flipper, and 'oped I'd "refreshed", and all that.
"Wy rather", sez I, "wot do you think?" at which he stared into his 'at,
And went a bit red in the gills." Must ha' thought me a muggins, old man,
To ask sech a question of 'ARRY as though grubbing short was his plan.

14

my Saturday arfs (statt halves) meine Sonnabend-Nachmittage. Kamerad. 16 the sawdusty reglar den rechten Scherwenzler, Kriecher. lering statt following. 18 on the stump auf der politischen Rundreise. statt you.

15 chump 17 fol19 yer

20 my bloater mein Herzenskind. 21 nail me mich paden, kriegen, 22 percessions statt processions. 23 hoof-padding Umherlaufen. as is fly, to wot's wot die den Witz, den Rummel_kennen.

fassen.

24

25 pallis statt palace. 26 (with) Rosherville Gardens chucked in fast einem Biergarten, Vergnügungsgarten ähnlich (Rosherville bei Gravesend, bekannter Ausflugsort). 27 'ealthries statt Healtheries hygienische Ausstellung 1884. 28 be on the shove sich Bewegung machen. 29 the mugs die Burschen. 30 a-slinging my legs die Beine schmeißen. 31 arter (statt after) a beast of a ball hinter dem verd.... Balle her. 32 tight bags enge Hosen. spechies statt species Sorte. 34 flannels flanellkleidung (der Sportsmänner). 35 do a swelter ein Schwizbad nehmen. 36 sorntered statt sauntered bummelte. 37 on the snap umber. schnappend (nach Essen und Trinken). 38 Walker Unsinn. 39 bellered "Ear' ear!" statt bellowed: "hear, hear!" schrie:,,hört! hört!" 40 tipped me his flipper reichte mir die Hand. 41 in the gills um die Kinnbaden, um den Mund herum, auf den Wangen. muggins hier = Narr.