Clash went the Billiard Balls

Clash went the billiard balls in the Clerkenwell Social Saloon.

Shut up the shutters and turn down the gas they’ll be calling the coppers in soon.

Goodnight, Alf!

Goodnight, Bert!

Goodnight, Mrs. Gilligan!

Rain in the archway, no trams in the street.

COP COP

Cop on the cobbleway

Quick little ladylike feet

“’Ard luck, ain’t got a gentleman?”

“Not on a night like this, sweet”

“The Red Lion, Myddleton, all the ’ole lot of ’em

Shut but a light in The Star

Counting the coppers to see what they’ve got of ’em

Glistening wet in the bar

32, 34, 36, 38, Gaskin’s not back with ’is tart

Left the ’all door open gives ’imself airs ’e does

Thinks ’imself too bloody smart

Gas on in the ’all and it’s we’ve got to pay for it

Damn these old stairs and this bug-ridden panelling

See ’im to-morrow what ’e’s got to say for it

Get on the bed there and start.”