Publisher's Synopsis
Excerpt from The Poetical Works of Thomas Hood, Vol. 3 of 4: With Some Account of the Author
Do, good people, move on don't stand staring at me like a parcel of stupid stuck pigs Saints forbid! But he 's p'r'aps been inviggled away up a court for the sake of his clothes by the prigs He 'd a very good jacket, for certain, for I bought it myself for a shilling one day in Rag Fair And his trowsers considering not very much patched, and red plush, they was once his Father's best pair. His shirt, it's very lucky I'd got washing in the tub, or that might have gone with the rest; But he 'd got on a very good pinafore with only two slits and a burn on the breast. He 'd a goodish sort of hat, if the crown was sewed in, and not quite so much jagg'd at the brim. With one shoe on, and the other shoe is a boot, and not a. Fit, and you 'll know by that if it's him. Except being so well dressed, my mind would mis give, some old beggar woman in want of an orphan, Had borrowed the child to go a begging with, but I 'd rather see him laid out in his coffin Do, good people, move on, such a rabble of boys I I '11 break every bone of 'em I come near, Go home - you 're Spilling the porter go home Tommy Jones, go along home with your beer.
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