Once on a time a grimy sweep
Was creeping down the street,
When Quartern Loaf, the biker's boy,
Below he chanced to meet:
"Sweep!" sneered the baker: and the sweep
Gave Puff a sooty flout;
But Puff-crumb did not deal in soot,
So turned his face about;
Nor did he care to soundly drub
The imp of dirty flues:
"Go change your clothes!" said he, "and then
"I'll thrash you when you choose!
"It will not do for me to fight
"With such a sooty elf;
"My jacket's white, 'twould soon be black
"By tussling with yourself!"