Now Moll's flash com-pan-ion was a Chick-lane gill,
and he garter'd below his knee, [4]
He had twice been pull'd, and nearly lagg'd, [5]
but got off by going to sea;
With his pipe and quid, and chaunting voice,
"Potatoes!" he would cry;
For he valued neither cove nor swell,
for he had wedge snug in his cly [6]
Singing, tol-lol-lol-lido.