IN Boucicault's _Janet Pride_ (revival by Charles Warner at the
Adelphi Theatre, London in the early eighties) was sung the following
(here given from memory):
The Convict's Song.
THE FAREWELL.
Farewell to old England the beautiful!
Farewell to my old pals as well!
Farewell to the famous Old Ba-i-ly
(_Whistle_).
Where I used for to cut sich a swell,
Ri-chooral, ri-chooral, Oh!!!
THE [WERDHICK?]
These seving long years I've been serving,
And seving I've got for to stay,
All for bashin' a bloke down our a-alley,
(_Whistle_).
And a' takin' his huxters away!
THE COMPLAINT.
There's the Captain, wot is our Commanduer,
There's the Bosun and all the ship's crew,
There's the married as well as the single 'uns,
(_Whistle_).
Knows wot we pore convicks goes through.
THE [SUFFERING?]
It ain't' cos they don't give us grub enough,
It ain't' cos they don't give us clo'es:
It's a-cos all we light-fingred gentery
(_Whistle_).
Goes about with a log on our toes.
THE PRAYER.
Oh, had I the wings of a turtle-dove,
Across the broad ocean I'd fly,
Right into the arms of my Policy love
(_Whistle_).
And on her soft bosum I'd lie!
THE MORRELL.
Now, all you young wi-counts and duchesses,
Take warning by wot I've to say,
And mind all your own wot you touches is,
(_Whistle_).
Or you'll jine us in Botinny Bay!
Oh!!!
Ri-chooral, ri-chooral, ri-addiday,
Ri-chooral, ri-chooral, iday.