~Yannep~, penny.
~Owt-yanneps~, twopence.
~Erth-yanneps~, threepence.
~Roaf-yanneps~, fourpence.
~Evif, or ewif-yanneps~, fivepence.
~Exis-yanneps~, sixpence.
~Nevis-yanneps~, sevenpence.
~Teaich, or theg-yanneps~, eightpence.
~Enin-yanneps~, ninepence.
~Net-yanneps~, tenpence.
~Nevelé-yanneps~, elevenpence.
~Evlénet-yanneps~, twelvepence.
~Generalize~, one shilling.
~Yannep-flatch~, three-halfpence.
~Owt-yannep-flatch~, twopence-halfpenny. The word “flatch”
represents the odd halfpenny when added to any number of
“yanneps.”
~Gen, or eno-gen~, one shilling. “Gen” is a contraction of
“generalize.”
~Owt-gens~, two shillings.
~Erth-gens~, three shillings.
The “gens” continue in the same sequence as the “yanneps” above; but, as
a rule, the _s_ is left out, and “owt” or “erth gen” represents the
quantity. This is, however, matter of individual taste; and any reader
who is anxious to become proficient need not be afraid of committing a
solecism—that’s a good word for back slanging—by giving vent to any
peculiarity that may strike him. Variety is the charm of nature, we are
told; and in this particular, if in no other, back slang and nature
approach each other. So do extremes meet.
~Yenork~, a crown piece, or five shillings.
~Flatch-yenork~, half-a-crown. This is generally slurred into
“flatch-a-nock.” The crown in full rarely receives the title
“yenork” nowadays,—it is usually a “wheel” or “evif gen.”
~Flatch a dunop~, ten shillings, _i.e._, half a pound.
Beyond this amount the slangist reckons after an intricate and
complicated mode. Fifteen shillings would be “erth-evif-gen,” or,
literally, three times 5_s._; seventeen and sixpence would be
“erth-yenork-flatch,” or three crowns and a half; or, by another mode of
reckoning, “erth-evif-gen flatch-yenork,” _i.e._, three times 5_s._, and
half-a-crown.
~Dunop~, a pound. Varied by “Dick,” back slang for “quid.”
Further than which the costermonger seldom goes in money reckoning.
In the following Glossary only those words are given which are
continually used,—the terms connected with street traffic, the names
of the different coins, vegetables, fruit, and fish, technicalities of
police courts, &c. The reader might naturally think that a system of
speech so simple as the back slang would require no Glossary; but he
will quickly perceive, from the specimens given, that a great many words
in frequent use in a “back” sense, have become so twisted as to require
a little glossarial explanation.
This kind of slang, formed by reversing and transposing the letters of a
word, is not peculiar to the London costermongers. Instances of an
exactly similar secret dialect are found in the Spanish “Germania” and
French “Argot.” Thus:—
_Spanish._ _Germania._ _English._
PLATO. TAPLO. PLATE.
DEMIA. MEDIA. STOCKINGS.
_French._ _Argot._ _English._
F’OL. LOFFE. FOOLISH.
LORCEFE. LA FORCE. LA FORCE, the prison of that name.
The Bazeegars, a wandering tribe of jugglers in India, form a back
slang, on the basis of the Hindustanee, in the following manner:—
_Hindustanee._ _Bazeegar._ _English._
AG. GA. FIRE.
LAMBA. BALUM. LONG.
DUM. MUDU. BREATH.
GLOSSARY OF THE BACK SLANG.
~Birk~, a “crib,”—a house.
~Cool~, to look.
~Cool him~, look at him. A phrase frequently used when one costermonger
warns another of the approach of a policeman, or when any person worthy
of notice passes by. When any old lady has been bargaining with a
costermonger, and leaves his barrow without purchasing, the proprietor
of the barrow will call out to the rest, “COOL the delo nammow,” which,
though it means literally nothing beyond “Look at the old woman,”
conveys to them an intimation that she is, from their point of view, a
nuisance, and should be treated as such.
~Dab~, bad.
~Dab tros~, a bad sort.
~Dabheno~, a bad one, sometimes a bad market. _See_ DOOGHENO.
~Da-erb~, bread.
~Deb~, or DAB, a bed; “I’m off to the DEB,” I’m going to bed.
~Delo nammow~, an old woman.
~Delog~, gold.
~Doog~, good.
~Doogheno~, literally “good-one,” but implying generally a good market,
a good man, &c.
~Doogheno hit~, one good hit. A coster remarks to a mate, “Jack made a
DOOGHENO HIT this morning,” implying that he did well at market, or sold
out with good profit. Actually a good hit only is intended, but
redundancy has its charms in the back slang as well as in more
pretentious literary efforts.
~Dunop~, a pound.
~Edgabac~, cabbage.
~Edgenaro~, an orange.
~E-fink~, a knife.
~Ekame~, a “make,” or swindle.
~Ekom~, a “moke,” or donkey.
~Elrig~, a girl.
~Emag~, game, “I know your little EMAG.”
~Enif~, fine.
~Enin gen~, nine shillings.
~Enin yanneps~, ninepence.
~Eno~, one.
~Erif~, fire.
~Erth~, three.
~Erth gen~, three shillings.
~Erth-pu~, three-up, a street game, played with three halfpence.
~Erth sith-noms~, three months,—a term of imprisonment unfortunately
very familiar to the lower orders. Generally known as a “drag.”
~Erth yanneps~, threepence.
~Esclop~, police, now used to signify a constable only. ESCLOP is
pronounced “slop” simply, but the _c_ was never sounded. A policeman is
now and then called, by some purist or stickler for etiquette, an
“esclopnam.”
~Es-roch~, a horse.
~Esuch~, a house.
~Evif-gen~, a crown, or five shillings.
~Evif-yanneps~, fivepence.
~Evlenet-gen~, twelve shillings.
~Evlenet sith-noms~, twelve months. Generally known as a “stretch.”
~Exis-evif-gen~, six times five shillings, _i.e._, 30_s._ All moneys may
be reckoned in this manner, either with YANNEPS or GENS. It is, however,
rarely or never done.
~Exis-evif-yanneps~, elevenpence,—literally, “sixpence and fivepence =
elevenpence.” This mode of reckoning, distinct from the preceding, is
only made by special arrangement amongst slangites, who wish to confound
their intimates.
~Exis gen~, six shillings.
~Exis sith-noms~, six months.
~Exis yanneps~, sixpence.
~Fi-heath~, a thief.
~Flatch~, half, or a halfpenny.
~Flatch kennurd~, half drunk.
~Flatch-yenork~, half-a-crown. _See_ preceding remarks.
~Flatchyannep~, a halfpenny.
~Gen~, twelvepence, or one shilling. Formerly imagined to be an
abbreviation of argent, cant term for silver.
~Generalize~, a shilling, almost invariably shortened to GEN.
~Genitraf~, a farthing.
~Gen-net~, or NET GEN, ten shillings.
~Genol~, long.
~Hel-bat~, a table. } The aspirate is matter of taste.
~Helpa~, an apple. }
~Kanitseeno~, a stinking one. KANITS is a stink.
~Kennurd~, drunk.
~Kew~ (or more properly KEEU), a week.
~Kews~, SKEW, or SKEEU, weeks.
~Kirb~, a brick.
~Kool~, to look.
~Lawt~, tall.
~Ler-ac-am~, mackerel.
~Mottob~, bottom.
~Mur~, rum. A “nettock o’ MUR” is a quartern of rum.
~Nair~, rain.
~Nam~, a man.
~Nam esclop~, a policeman. _See_ ESCLOP.
~Nammow~, a woman; DELO NAMMOW, an old woman.
~Neel~, lean.
~Neergs~, greens.
~Net enin gen~, nineteen shillings.
~Net evif gen~, fifteen shillings.
~Net exis gen~, sixteen shillings.
~Net gen~, ten shillings, or half a sovereign.
~Net nevis gen~, seventeen shillings.
~Net rith gen~, thirteen shillings.
~Net roaf gen~, fourteen shillings. It will be seen by the foregoing
that the reckoning is more by tens than by “teens.” This is, however,
matter of choice, and any one wishing to be considered accomplished in
this description of slang, must do as he thinks best—must lead and not
be led.
~Net theg gen~, eighteen shillings.
~Net yanneps~, tenpence.
~Nevele gen~, eleven shillings.
~Nevele yanneps~, elevenpence.
~Nevis gen~, seven shillings.
~Nevis stretch~, seven years’ penal servitude.
~Nevis yanneps~, sevenpence.
~Nig~, gin.
~Noom~, the moon.
~Nos-rap~, a parson.
~Occabot~, tobacco; “tib fo OCCABOT,” bit of tobacco.
~Ogging ot tekram~, going to market.
~On~, no.
~On doog~, no good.
~Owt gen~, two shillings. } OWT is pronounced OAT.
~Owt yanneps~, twopence. }
~Pac~, a cap.
~Pinnurt pots~, turnip tops.
~Pot~, top.
~Rape~, a pear.
~Reeb~, beer. “Top o’ REEB,” a pot of beer.
~Rev-lis~, silver.
~Rof-efil~, for life—sentence of punishment.
~Roaf-gen~, four shillings.
~Roaf-yanneps~, fourpence.
~Rutat~, or RATTAT, a “tatur,” or potato.
~See-otches~, shoes.
~Sey~, yes. Pronounced SEE.
~Shif~, fish.
~Sirretch~, cherries. Very often SIRRETCHES.
~Sith-nom~, a month. This is because the slang was made from months, not
month. Perhaps because the latter was not easy; perhaps because terms of
imprisonment run longer than a month, and are often enumerated in the
“kacab genals.” However it may be, “months” in this mode of speaking has
a double plural as it stands now.
~Slaoc~, coals.
~Slop~, a policeman. _See_ ESCLOP.
~Sneerg~, greens.
~Spinsrap~, parsnips. }
~Sret-sio~, oysters. }
~Sres-wort~, trousers. }
~Starps~, sprats. } All these will take the _s_, which is now initial,
~Stoobs~, boots. } after them, if desired, and, as may be seen, some
~Storrac~, carrots. } take it doubly.
~Stun~, nuts. }
~Stunlaw~, walnuts. }
~Tach~, a hat.
~Taf~, fat. A TAF ENO is a fat man or woman, literally A FAT ONE.
~Taoc~, a coat. “Cool the DELO TAOC” means, “Look at the old coat,” but
is really intended to apply to the wearer as well, as professors of
mixed slangs might say, “Vardy his nibs in the snide bucket.”
~Taoc-tisaw~, a waistcoat.
~Teaich-gir~, right, otherwise TADGER.
~Tenip~, a pint.
~Theg~ (or TEAICH) gen, eight shillings.
~Theg~ (or TEAITCH) yanneps, eightpence.
~Tib~, a bit, or piece.
~Tol~, lot, stock, or share.
~Top-yob~, a potboy.
~Torrac~, a carrot. “Ekat a TORRAC.”
~Trork~, a quart.
~Trosseno~, literally, “one sort,” but professional slangists use it to
imply anything that is bad. TROSS, among costermongers, means anything
bad. It is probably a corruption of trash. Possibly, however, the
constant use of the words “dab-tros” may have led them in their
unthinking way to imagine that the latter word will do by itself.
~Wedge~, a Jew. This may look strange, but it is exact back slang.
~Wor-rab~, a barrow.
~Yad~, a day; YADS, days.
~Yadnarb~, brandy.
~Yannep~, a penny.
~Yannep a time~, a penny each. Costermongers say “a time” for many
things. They say a “bob a time,” meaning a shilling each for admission
to a theatre, or any other place, or that certain articles are charged a
shilling each. The context is the only clue to the exact meaning.
~Yannep-flatch~, three halfpence,—all the halfpence and pennies
continue in the same sequence, as for instance, OWT-YANNEP-FLATCH,
twopence-halfpenny.
~Yap pu~, pay up.
~Yeknod~, or JERK-NOD, a donkey.
~Yenork~, a crown.
~Yob~, a boy.
~Zeb~, best.
From these examples the apt student may fairly judge how to form his own
back slang to his own liking and that of his friends.
SOME ACCOUNT
OF
THE RHYMING SLANG.
There exists in London a singular tribe of men, known amongst the
“fraternity of vagabonds” as chaunters and patterers. Both classes are
great talkers. The first sing or chaunt through the public thoroughfares
ballads—political and humorous—carols, dying speeches, and the various
other kinds of gallows and street literature. The second deliver street
orations on grease-removing compounds, plating powders, high-polishing
blacking, and the thousand-and-one wonderful penny-worths that are
retailed to gaping mobs from a London kerb-stone.
They are quite a distinct tribe from the costermongers; indeed, amongst
tramps, they term themselves the “harristocrats of the streets,” and
boast that they live by their intellects. Like the costermongers,
however, they have a secret tongue or cant speech known only to each
other. This cant, which has nothing to do with that spoken by the
costermongers, is known in Seven Dials and elsewhere as the “rhyming
slang,” or the substitution of words and sentences which rhyme with
other words intended to be kept secret. The chaunter’s cant, therefore,
partakes of his calling, and he transforms and uses up into a rough
speech the various odds and ends of old songs, ballads, and street
nicknames, which are found suitable to his purpose. Unlike nearly all
other systems of cant, the rhyming slang is not founded upon allegory;
unless we except a few rude similes, thus—“I’m afloat” is the rhyming
cant for “boat,” “sorrowful tale” is equivalent to “three months in
jail,” “artful dodger” signifies a “lodger,” and a “snake in the grass”
stands for a “looking-glass”—a meaning that would delight a fat
Chinaman, or a collector of Oriental proverbs. But, as in the case of
the costers’ speech and the old gipsy-vagabond cant, the chaunters and
patterers so interlard this rhyming slang with their general remarks,
while their ordinary language is so smothered and subdued, that, unless
when they are professionally engaged, and talking of their wares, they
might almost pass for foreigners.
From the inquiries I have made of various patterers and “paper-workers,”
I learn that the rhyming slang was introduced about twelve or fifteen
years ago.[61] Numbering this class of oratorical and bawling wanderers
at twenty thousand, scattered over Great Britain, including London and
the large provincial towns, we thus see the number of English vagabonds
who converse in rhyme and talk poetry, although their habitations and
mode of life constitute a very unpleasant Arcadia. These nomadic poets,
like the other talkers of cant or secret languages, are stamped with the
vagabond’s mark, and are continually on the move. The married men mostly
have lodgings in London, and come and go as occasion may require. A few
never quit London streets, but the greater number tramp to all the large
provincial fairs, and prefer the “monkery” (country) to town life. Some
transact their business in a systematic way, sending a post-office order
to the Seven Dials’ printer for a fresh supply of ballads or penny
books, or to the “swag shop,” as the case may be, for trinkets and
gewgaws, to be sent on by rail to a given town by the time they shall
arrive there.
When any dreadful murder, colliery explosion, or frightful railway
accident has happened in a country district, three or four chaunters
are generally on the spot in a day or two after the occurrence, vending
and bawling “A True and Faithful Account,” &c., which “true and
faithful account” was concocted purely in the imaginations of
the successors of Catnach and Tommy Pitts,[62] behind the counters
of their printing-shops in Seven Dials. And but few fairs are held
in any part of England without the patterer being punctually at his
post, with his nostrums, or real gold rings (with the story of the wager
laid by the gentleman—_see_ FAWNEY-BOUNCING, in the Dictionary), or
savealls for candlesticks, or paste which, when applied to the strop,
makes the dullest razor keen enough to hack broom handles and sticks,
and after that to have quite enough sharpness left for splitting hairs,
or shaving them off the back of one of the hands of a clodhopper,
looking on in amazement. And Cheap John, too, with his coarse jokes, and
no end of six-bladed knives, and pocket-books, containing information
for everybody, with pockets to hold money, and a pencil to write with
into the bargain, and a van stuffed with the cheap productions of
Sheffield and “Brummagem,”—he, too, is a patterer of the highest order,
and visits fairs, and can hold a conversation in the rhyming slang.
Such is a rough description of the men who speak this jargon; and simple
and ridiculous as the vulgar scheme of a rhyming slang may appear, it
must always be regarded as a curious fact in linguistic history. In
order that the reader’s patience may not be too much taxed, only a
selection of rhyming words has been given in the Glossary,—and these
for the most part, as in the case of the back slang, are the terms of
every-day life, as used by this order of tramps and hucksters.
It must not be supposed, however, that the chaunter or patterer confines
himself entirely to this slang when conveying secret intelligence. On
the contrary, although he speaks not a “leash of languages,” yet is he
master of the beggar’s cant, and is thoroughly “up” in street slang. The
following letter, written by a chaunter to a gentleman who took an
interest in his welfare, will show his capabilities in this line:—
Dear Friend,[63]
Excuse the liberty, since i saw you last i have not earned a thick
un, we have had such a Dowry of Parny that it completely Stumped
Drory the Bossman’s Patter therefore i am broke up and not having
another friend but you i wish to know if you would lend me the price
of 2 Gross of Tops, Dies, or Croaks, which is 7 shillings, of the
above-mentioned worthy and Sarah Chesham the Essex Burick for the
Poisoning job, they are both to be topped at Springfield Sturaban on
Tuesday next. i hope you will oblige me if you can, for it will be
the means of putting a James in my Clye. i will call at your Carser
on Sunday Evening next for an answer, for i want a Speel on the Drum
as soon as possible. hoping you and the family are All Square,
I remain Your obedient Servant,
The numerous allusions in the Glossary to well-known places in London
show that this rude speech was mainly concocted in the metropolis. The
police have made themselves partially acquainted with the back slang,
but they are still profoundly ignorant of the rhyming slang.
* * * * *
NOTE.
Since the foregoing was written, matters have changed considerably,
even, which I much doubt, if they ever were as is stated; for, as I have
already remarked, wherever opportunity has occurred, the costermonger,
the patterer, the chaunter, and the various other itinerants who “work”
London and the provinces, delight in making themselves appear a most
mysterious body; and this, when added to their natural disinclination to
commit themselves to anything like fact so far as their natural
enemies—inquirers, and well-dressed inquirers in particular—are
concerned, has caused all sorts of extraordinary stories to be set
afloat, which have ultimately led to an opinion becoming prevalent, that
the costermonger and his friends form a race of beings differing
entirely from those who mix in the ordinary humdrum routine of
respectable life. Nothing could really be much further from fact. Any
one who has ever been driven by stress of circumstances or curiosity to
take up a permanent or temporary residence in any of the lodging-houses
which abound in St. Giles’s, Saffron Hill, Turnmill Street, and in all
parts of the eastern district of the metropolis, will bear me out when I
say that a more commonplace individual, so far as his inner life is
concerned, than the London itinerant cannot possibly exist. Certainly he
is ignorant, and takes a very limited view of things in general, and
religion and politics in particular; but these peculiarities are held in
common with his betters, and so cannot be regarded as the special
prerogative of any class. If you ask him a question he will attempt to
mislead you, because, by your asking the question, he knows you are
ignorant of his way of life; and when he does not mystify from love of
mischief, as it appears he does from all published books I have seen
about him, he does so as a duty he owes his natural enemies, the parish
authorities and the tract distributors, the latter of whom he holds in
special abhorrence.
If the rhyming slang was ever, during its existence, regarded as a
secret language, its secrecy has long since departed from it. Far easier
of construction than even the back slang, it has been common, especially
in several printing-offices I could name, for many years, while
street-boys are great proficients in its small mysteries. The Glossary
which follows here will explain a good deal of its mechanism; but it
must be borne in mind that the rhymes are all matters of individual
opinion, and that if one man says Allacompain means rain, another is
quite justified in preferring Mary Blane, if his individual fancy lies
in that direction. And now, if there is any secret about the rhyming
slang, it is this—the rhyme is left out. This may at first seem
extraordinary; but on reflection it will be seen that there is no other
way of making the proceedings of its exponents puzzling to ordinarily
sharp ears which have received the slightest clue. Thus, when the first
word of a series only is used, and others in the sentence are made up
from the back, the centre and various slangs, there is some hope of
fogging an intruding listener to a private conversation. When a man is
drunk, the rhyming slang would illustrate that fact by the words
“Elephant’s trunk;” but the practised hand confines himself to the
statement that “Bill’s Elephants.” “Bullock’s horn” represents to pawn,
but an article is said to be “Bullocked” only; and so on through the
list, providing always that the curtailment represents two syllables; if
it does not, then the entire rhyme is given.
I think that this will be sufficient to guide those readers anxious to
become proficient themselves, or to understand others who are themselves
proficient at this item in the world of slang; and so I have nothing
more to say except to call attention to the fact that, in all the other
introductions, I have made my corrections, which have been neither few
nor unimportant, in the text; but that I could see no way of working on
the subject of the rhyming slang fairly and explicitly other than by
means of this note.—EDITOR.
FOOTNOTES:
[61] This was written in 1858.
[62] The famous printers and publishers of sheet songs and last dying
speeches thirty years ago.
[63] The writer, a street chaunter of ballads and last dying speeches,
alludes in his letter to two celebrated criminals—Thos. Drory, the
murderer of Jael Denny, and Sarah Chesham, who poisoned her husband,
accounts of whose trials and “horrid deeds” he had been selling. Here is
a Glossary of the cant words:—
_Thick un_, a sovereign.
_Dowry of Parny_, a lot of rain.
_Stumped_, bankrupt.
_Bossman_, a farmer.
⁂ Drory was a farmer.
_Patter_, trial.
_Tops_, last dying speeches.
_Dies_, _ib._
_Croaks_, _ib._
_Burick_, a woman.
_Topped_, hung.
_Sturaban_, a prison.
_James_, a sovereign.
_Clye_, a pocket.
_Carser_, a house or residence.
_Speel on the Drum_, to be off to the country.
_All Square_, all right, or quite well.
GLOSSARY OF THE RHYMING SLANG.
~Abraham’s willing~, a shilling.
~Allacompain~, rain.
~Any racket~, a penny faggot.
~Apples and pears~, stairs.
~Artful dodger~, a lodger.
~Baby’s pap~, a cap.
~Barnet fair~, hair.
~Battle of the Nile~, a tile—vulgar term for a hat. “Cool his BATTLE,
Bill.”
~Ben flake~, a steak.
~Billy Button~, mutton.
~Birch-broom~, a room.
~Bird-lime~, time.
~Bob, my pal~, a gal,—vulgar pronunciation of girl.
~Bonnets so blue~, Irish stew.
~Bottle of spruce~, a deuce,—slang for twopence.
~Bowl the hoop~, soup.
~Brian o’Linn~, gin.
~Brown Bess~, yes—the affirmative.
~Brown Joe~, no—the negative.
~Bull and cow~, a row.
~Bucket afloat~, a coat. This is also called I’m AFLOAT, and is
generally contracted to “cool his Imer,” or “nark his bucket.” There is
no necessity to particularize all contractions. With the key already
given they will be evident.
~Bullock’s horn~, in pawn.
~Bushy-park~, a lark.
~Butter flap~, a trap, a light cart.
~Cain and Abel~, a table.
~Camden-town~, a brown,—vulgar term for a halfpenny.
~Castle rag~, a flag,—cant term for fourpence.
~Cat and mouse~, a house.
~Chalk farm~, the arm.
~Charing Cross~, a horse.
~Charley Lancaster~, a handkercher,—vulgar pronunciation of
handkerchief.
~Charley Prescott~, a waistcoat.
~Cherry ripe~, a pipe.
~Chevy chase~, the face.
~Chump~ (or CHUNK) ~of wood~, no good.
~Covent Garden~, a farden,—Cockney pronunciation of farthing.
~Cow and calf~, to laugh.
~Cows and kisses~, mistress or missus—referring to the ladies.
~Currants and plums~, thrums,—slang for threepence.
~Daisy roots~, a pair of boots.
~Dan Tucker~, butter.
~Ding-dong~, a song.
~Dry land~, you understand.
~Duke of York~, walk, or talk, according to context.
~East and south~, the mouth.
~Eat a fig~, to “crack a crib,” to break into a house, or commit a
burglary.
~Egyptian hall~, a ball.
~Elephant’s trunk~, drunk.
~Epsom races~, a pair of braces.
~Everton toffee~, coffee.
~Field of wheat~, a street.
~Fillet of veal~, the treadwheel in the house of correction.
~Finger and thumb~, rum.
~Flag unfurled~, a man of the world.
~Flea and louse~, a house.
~Flounder and dab~ (two kinds of flat fish), a cab.
~Fly my kite~, a light.
~Frog and toad~, the main road.
~Garden gate~, a magistrate.