them.... Under the influence of penny fares, Londoners are
rapidly forgetting how to walk."--_The Times_.

Ah! it's all very fine, my good Sir, whosomever you are as writes such,
But of decent poor folk and their needs it is plain as you do not know
much.
Which I ain't quite so young as I was, nor as light, nor as smart on my
feet,
And you may not know quite what it is to be out late o' night and dead
beat,
Out Islington way, arter ten, with a bundle, a child, and a cage,
As canaries is skeery at night, and a seven mile walk, at my age,
All along of no 'Bus to be had, love or money, and cabs that there dear,
And a stitch in my side and short breath, ain't as nice as you
fancy,--no fear!
Likeways look at my JOHN every morning, ah! rain, hail or shine, up to
town,
With no trams running handy, and corns! As I sez to my friend Mrs. BROWN,
Bless the 'Buses, I sez, they're a boon to poor souls, as must travel
at times,
And we can't _all_ keep kerridges neither, wus luck! Penny Fares ain't
no crimes,
If you arsk me, as did ought to know. Which my feelings I own it does rouge
To hear big-wigs a-sneering at 'Buses. There may be a bit of a scrouge,
And the smell of damp straw mixed with pep'mint ain't nice to a dalicot
nose,
Likeways neat "Oh be Joyful's" a thing as with orange and snuff hardly
goes.
But we ain't all rekerky nor rich, we can't all afford sixpence a mile,
And when we are old, late, and tired, or it's wet, we can't think about