A Poem in Rhyming Slang

The Rhyme of the Rusher
Doss Chiderdoss (A R Marshall)

I was out one night on the strict teetote,
Cause I couldn't afford a drain;
I was wearing a leaky I'm afloat,
And it started to France and Spain.

But a toff was mixed in a bull and cow,
And I helped him to do a bunk;
He had been on the I'm so tap, and now
He was slightly Elephant's Trunk.

He offered to stand me a booze, so I
Took him round to "The Mug's Retreat";
And my round the houses I tried to dry
By the Anna Maria's heat.

He stuck to the I'm so to drown his cares,
While I went for the far and near,
Until the clock on the apples and pears
Gave the office for us to clear.

Then round at the club we'd another bout,
And I fixed him at nap until
I had turned his skyrockets inside out,
And had managed my own to fill.

Of course I had gone on the half-ounce trick,
And we quarreled and came to blows;
But I fired him out of the Rory quick,
And he fell on his I suppose.

And he laid there, weighing out prayers for me,
Without hearing the plates of meat
Of a slop who had pinched him for "D and D"
And disturbing a peaceful beat.

And I smiled as I closed my two mince pies,
In my insect promenade;
For out of his nibs I had taken a rise,
And his stay on the spot was barred.

Next morning I brushed up my Barnet Fair,
And got myself up pretty smart,
Then I sallied forth with a careless air,
And contented Raspberry Tart.

At the first big pub I resolved if poss.,
That I'd sample my lucky star;
So I passed a flimsey on to the boss,
Who served drinks at the there you are.

He looked at the note and the air began
With his language to pen and ink;
For the mug I'd fleeced had been his head man,
And had done him for lots of chink.

I'm blessed if my luck doesn't hum and ha,
For I argued the point with skill;
For the once a week made me go ta-ta
For a month on the can't keep still.

Last modified on 04 May 2006.