Chapter XVII: Part 17

~Work~, to plan, or lay down and execute any course of action, to perform anything; “to WORK the bulls,” _i.e._, to get rid of false crown pieces; “to work the oracle,” to succeed by manœuvring, to concert a wily plan, to victimize,—a possible reference to the stratagems and bribes used to corrupt the Delphic oracle, and cause it to deliver a favourable response. “To WORK a street or neighbourhood,” to try at each house to sell all one can, or to bawl so that every housewife may know what is to be sold. The general plan is to drive a donkey-barrow a short distance, and then stop and cry. The term implies thoroughness; to “WORK a street well” is a common saying with a coster. “To WORK a benefit” is to canvass among one’s friends and acquaintances.

~Worm.~ _See_ PUMP.

~Worm~, a policeman.

~Worming~, removing the beard of an oyster or mussel.

~W. P.~, or WARMING-PAN. A clergyman who holds a living _pro tempore_, under a bond of resignation, is styled a W. P., or WARMING-PAN rector, because he keeps the place warm for his successor. WARMING-PAN was a term first popularly applied to a substitute in the reign of James II.

~Wrinkle~, an idea, or a fancy; an additional piece of knowledge.

~Write~, as “to WRITE one’s name on a joint,” to leave the impression of one’s handiwork thereon, to have the first cut at anything; to leave visible traces of one’s presence anywhere.

~Wylo~, be off.—_Anglo-Chinese._

~X.~, or LETTER X, a method of arrest used by policemen with desperate ruffians,—by getting a firm grasp on the collar, and drawing the captive’s hand over the holding arm, and pressing the fingers down in a peculiar way—the captured person’s arm in this way can be more easily broken than extricated.

~Yack~, a watch; to “church a YACK,” to take it out of its case to avoid detection, otherwise to “christen a YACK.”

~Yaffle~, to eat.—_Old English._

~Yahoo~, a person of coarse or degraded habits. Derived from the use of the word by Swift.

~Yam~, to eat. This word is used by the lowest class all over the world; by the Wapping sailor, West Indian negro, or Chinese coolie. When the fort, called the Dutch Folly, near Canton, was in course of erection by the Hollanders, under the pretence of being intended for an hospital, the Chinese observed a box containing muskets among the alleged hospital stores. “Hy-aw!” exclaimed John Chinaman, “How can sick man YAM gun?” The Dutch were surprised and massacred the same night.

~Yappy~, soft, foolish; mostly applied to an over-generous person, from the fact that it originally meant one who paid for everything. YAP is back slang for pay, and often when a man is asked to pay more than he considers correct, he says, “Do you think I’m YAPPY?” do you think I’m paying mad? Thus slang begets slang.

~Yard of clay~, a long, old-fashioned tobacco pipe; also called a churchwarden.

~Yarmouth capon~, a bloater, or red herring.

~Yarmouth mittens~, bruised hands.—_Sea._

~Yarn~, a long story, or tale; “a tough YARN,” a tale hard to be believed; “spin a YARN,” to tell a tale.—_Sea._

~Yay-nay~, “a poor YAY-NAY” fellow, one who has no conversational power, and can only answer YEA or NAY to a question.

~Yellow-belly~, a native of the fens of Lincolnshire, or the Isle of Ely—in allusion to the frogs and yellow-bellied eels caught there.

~Yellow-boy~, a sovereign, or any gold coin.

~Yellow-gloak~, a jealous man.

~Yellow-Jack~, the yellow fever prevalent in the West Indies.

~Yellow-man~, a yellow silk handkerchief.

~Yellows~, a term of reproach applied to Bluecoat and other charity school boys.

~Yid~, or YIT, a Jew. YIDDEN, the Jewish people. The Jews use these terms very frequently.

~Yokel~, a countryman. Probably from yoke, representative of his occupation. Some fancy, however, that the word was originally YOWKEL, in imitation of the broad tones of country labourers.

~Yokuff~, a chest, or large box.

~Yorkshire~, “to YORKSHIRE,” or “come YORKSHIRE over any person,” to cheat or cozen him. The proverbial over-reaching of the rustics of this county has given rise to the phrase, which is sometimes pronounced Yorshar. To put Yorshar to a man, is to trick or deceive him. This latter is from a work in the Lancashire dialect, 1757.

~Yorkshire compliment~, a gift of something useless to the giver. Sometimes called a North-country compliment.

~Yorkshire estates;~ “I will do it when I come into my YORKSHIRE ESTATES,”—meaning if I ever have the money or the means.

~Yorkshire reckoning~, a reckoning in which every one pays his own share.

~Younker~, in street language, a lad or a boy. Term in general use amongst costermongers, cabmen, and old-fashioned people. Barnefield’s _Affectionate Shepherd_, 1594, has the phrase, “a seemelie YOUNKER.” _Danish_ and _Friesic_, JONKER. In the navy, a naval cadet is usually termed a YOUNKER.

~Your nibs~, yourself. _See_ NIBS.

~Yoxter~, a convict returned from transportation before his time.

~Ziff~, a juvenile thief.

~Ziph~, LANGUAGE OF, a way of disguising English in use among the students at Winchester College. Compare MEDICAL GREEK. De Quincey, in his _Autobiographic Sketches_, says that he acquired this language as a boy, from a Dr. Mapleton, who had three sons at Winchester who had imported it from thence as their sole accomplishment, and that after the lapse of fifty years he could, and did with Lord Westport, converse in it with ease and rapidity. It was communicated at Winchester to new-comers for a fixed fee of half a guinea. The secret is this,—repeat the vowel or diphthong of every syllable, prefixing to the vowel so repeated the letter G, and placing the accent on the intercalated syllable. Thus, for example, “Shall we go away in an hour?” “Shagall wege gogo agawagay igin agan hougour?” “Three hours we have already stayed,” “Threegee hougours wege hagave agalreageadygy stagayed.” De Quincey could hardly have been considered complimentary to his own memory if he supposed that he, or for the matter of that any one possessed of brains, could forget anything so simple; or that, if forgotten until suddenly recalled, it could not be mastered by any sensible person in a minute. The language of ZIPH is far inferior to any of the slangs manufactured by the lower classes. Evidently any consonant will answer the purpose; F or L would be softer, and so far better. This ZIPH system is not confined to Winchester College, as it is recorded and described amongst many other modes of cryptical communication, oral and visual, spoken, written, and symbolic, in an _Essay towards a Real Character and a Philosophic Language_ (founded on or suggested by a treatise published just before, by Geo. Dalgarne), by John Wilkins, Bishop of Chester, published by order of the Royal Society, fol. 1668, and as the bishop does not speak of it as a recent invention, it may probably at that time have been regarded as an antique device for conducting a conversation in secrecy amongst bystanders—which says very little for either the designers or the bystanders.

~Zounds!~ a sudden exclamation—abbreviation of “God’s wounds!”

FOOTNOTES:

[57] Since the first edition of this work a great alteration has taken place in this respect. Though topical ballads are now often sung, the singers confine themselves to low neighbourhoods, and as soon as a policeman approaches, if ever he does, they make themselves scarce. The practice is singular. One man gets as far through a line as he can, and when his voice cracks his companion takes up. For this reason the business is as a rule conducted by a man and woman, or sometimes by a woman and child. The writing of these ditties is generally work of a character for which even 7_s._ 6_d._ would be a high rate of pay.—ED.

[58] Eurasian is not a child of mixed race, but one born of European parents in an Asiatic clime. A similar error exists with regard to the word creole, which is generally supposed to mean a man or woman in whom white and black strains are mixed. I need not say how wrong this is, but the vulgar error is none the less current.—ED.

[59] There is something so extremely humorous and far-fetched about this explanation, that though it is utterly unworthy of its place in a dictionary, I, finding it there, have not the heart to cut it out.—ED.

[60] Of course by those who don’t know the scientific way used in “canine exhibitions” and dog-fights—of biting their tails till they turn round to bite the biter.—ED.

SOME ACCOUNT

OF

THE BACK SLANG.

The costermongers of London number between thirty and forty thousand. Like other low tribes, they boast a language, or secret tongue, by which they hide their designs, movements, and other private affairs. This costers’ speech offers no new fact, or approach to a fact, for philologists; it is not very remarkable for originality of construction, neither is it spiced with low humour, as other cant. But the costermongers boast that it is known only to themselves; that it is far beyond the Irish, and puzzles the Jews. This is, however, but a poor fiction; for, as will be seen, the slang current among them is of the crudest conception, and only difficult to the most ignorant. Any one of the smallest pretensions to ability could learn back slang—could, in fact, create it for himself—as far as the costers’ vocabulary extends, in a couple of hours. Since the early editions of this work were published back slang has become very common; and is now mostly spoken, mixed however, with various other kinds of slang, in the public markets—the new dead-meat market being, perhaps, strongest in the way of pure—if the term may be used—back slang.

The main principle of this language is spelling the words backwards—or rather, pronouncing them rudely backwards. Sometimes, for the sake of harmony, an extra syllable is prefixed or annexed; and occasionally the word receives quite a different turn, in rendering it backwards, from what an uninitiated person would have expected. One coster told Mayhew that he often gave the end of a word “a new turn, just as if he chorused it with a tol-de-rol.” But then costermongers, and more especially those who confided their joys and sorrows to the gentleman just named, are not to be relied on. The coster has, of course, his own idea of the proper way of spelling words, and is not to be convinced but by an overwhelming show of learning,—and frequently not then, for he is a very headstrong fellow. By the time a coster has spelt an ordinary word of two or three syllables in the proper way, and then spelt it backwards, it has become a tangled knot that no etymologist could unravel. The word “generalize,” for instance, is considered to be “shilling” spelt backwards, while “genitraf” is supposed to represent farthing. Sometimes slang and cant words are introduced, and even these, when imagined to be tolerably well known, are pronounced backwards. Very often, instead of a word being spelt backwards right through, the syllables retain their original order; the initial _h_ is pronounced as though _c_ were before it, “tatch” being back slang for hat, and “flatch” the word supposed to represent half. Again, the full words are shortened, as “gen” for “generalize,” a shilling; and various other artifices are resorted to, in the hope of adding to the natural difficulties of back slang.

This back language, back slang, or “kacab genals,” as it is called by the costermongers themselves, is supposed to be regarded by the rising generation of street-sellers as a distinct and regular mode of intercommunication. People who hear this slang for the first time never refer words, by inverting them, to their originals; and the “yanneps,” “esclops,” and “nammows,” are looked upon as secret terms. Those who practise the slang soon obtain a considerable stock vocabulary, so that they converse rather from the memory than the understanding. Amongst the senior costermongers, and those who pride themselves on their proficiency in back slang, a conversation is often sustained for a whole evening—that is, the chief words are in the back slang—especially if any “flats” are present whom they wish to astonish or confuse.

The addition of an _s_ invariably forms the plural, so that this is another source of complication. For instance, woman in the back slang is “nammow,” and “nammows” is “women.” The explorer, then, in undoing the back slang, and turning the word once more into English, would have a novel and very extraordinary rendering of women. Where a word is refractory in submitting to a back rendering, as in the case of “pound,” letters are made to change positions for the sake of harmony; thus we have “dunop,” a pound, instead of “dnuop,” which nobody could pleasantly pronounce. Also all words of one syllable which end with two consonants—such, for instance, as cold, drunk—become dissyllables when read backwards, the vowel e being imagined between the then first and second consonants, as “deloc,” “kennurd.” Others take the vowel as an initial, girl being pronounced “elrig.” This arrangement, as a modification to suit circumstances, may remind the reader of the Jews’ “Old clo’! old clo’!” instead of “Old clothes! old clothes!” which it is supposed would tire the patience of even a Jew to repeat all day.

The back slang has been in vogue for many years. It is, as before stated, very easily acquired, and is principally used by the costermongers and others who practise it (as the specimen Glossary will show) for communicating the secrets of their street tradings, the cost of and profit on goods, and for keeping their natural enemies, the police, in the dark. “Cool the esclop” (look at the police) is often said among them, when one of the constabulary makes his appearance. It is only fair to assume, however, that the police know as much or more about the back slang than do the costers; and every child in a “shy” neighbourhood knows the meaning of the phrase just quoted. Those who regard the London costermonger as a fearful being are very much mistaken,—he is singularly simple-minded and innocent, and has, indeed, very little to conceal; but he certainly does like to wrap himself up as in a garment of mystery, and sometimes believes that the few words of slang he knows, mixed as they are, and troublesome as they have been to him, form an impenetrable barrier between him and the rest of the world. He is fond of exhibiting what knowledge he possesses, and so talks slang in public much more than in private; but at most the slang words used bear not forty per cent. proportion to the rest of his conversational structure, even when he exerts himself to the uttermost limits of his ability and education, and even when he is a leader in his walk of life.

Perhaps on no subject is the costermonger so silent as on his money affairs. All costs and profits, he thinks, should be kept profoundly secret. The back slang, therefore, gives the various small amounts very minutely, but, as has been before remarked, these words are known wherever common folk most do congregate, and are peculiar only for their variations from the original in the way of pronunciation:—

~Flatch~, halfpenny.
~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.

~German flutes~, a pair of boots.

~Girl and boy~, a saveloy,—a penny sausage.

~Glorious sinner~, a dinner.

~Gooseberry pudding~ (_vulgo_ PUDDEN), a woman.

~Harry Bluff~, snuff.

~Hod of mortar~, a pot of porter.

~Hounslow Heath~, teeth.

~I desire~, a fire.

~I’m afloat~, a boat. This is also used for coat. _See ante._

~Isabeller~ (vulgar pronunciation of ISABELLA), an umbrella.

~Isle of France~, a dance.

~I suppose~, the nose.

~Jack-a-dandy~, brandy.

~Jack Randall~ (a noted pugilist), a candle.

~Jenny Linder~, a winder,—vulgar pronunciation of window.

~Joe Savage~, a cabbage.

~Lath and plaster~, a master.

~Lean and lurch~, a church.

~Lean and fat~, a hat.

~Linendraper~, paper.

~Live eels~, fields.

~Load of hay~, a day.

~Long acre~, a baker.

~Lord John Russell~, a bustle.

~Lord Lovel~, a shovel.

~Lump of coke~, a bloke—vulgar term for a man.

~Lump of lead~, the head.

~Macaroni~, a pony.

~Maids adorning~, the morning.

~Maidstone jailer~, a tailor.

~Mince pies~, the eyes.

~Mother and daughter~, water.

~Muffin baker~, a Quaker (slang term for excrement).

~Navigators~, taturs,—vulgar pronunciation of potatoes.

~Navigator Scot~, baked potatoes all hot.

~Needle and thread~, bread.

~Never fear~, beer.

~Night and day~, the play.

~Nose and chin~, a winn,—ancient cant for a penny.

~Noser my knacker~, tobacco.

~Oats and barley~, Charley.

~Oats and chaff~, a footpath.

~Orinoko~ (pronounced ORINOKER), a poker.

~Over the stile~, sent for trial.

~Paddy Quick~, thick, or a stick.

~Pen and ink~, a stink.

~Pitch and fill~, Bill,—vulgar shortening for William.

~Plates of meat~, the feet.

~Plough the deep~, to go to sleep.

~Pope o’ Rome~, home.

~Read and write~, to fight.

~River Lea~, tea.

~Rogue and villain~, a shillin,—common pronunciation of shilling.

~Roll me in the dirt~, a shirt.

~Rory o’More~, the floor. Also used to signify a whore.

~Round the houses~, trousies,—vulgar pronunciation of trousers.

~Salmon and trout~, the mouth.

~Scotch Peg~, a leg.

~Ship in full sail~, a pot of ale.

~Sir Walter Scott~, a pot,—generally of beer.

~Snake in the grass~, a looking-glass.

~Sorrowful tale~, three months in jail.

~Split asunder~, a costermonger.

~Steam-packet~, a jacket.

~St. Martin’s-le-Grand~, the hand.

~Stop thief~, beef.

~Sugar and honey~, money.

~Sugar-candy~, brandy.

~Take a fright~, night.

~Three-quarters of a peck~, the neck,—in writing, among experts, expressed by the simple “3/4,” as it is pronounced.

~Tom Tug~, a mug (a fool).

~Tommy o’Rann~, scran,—vulgar term for food.

~Tommy Tripe~, to pipe; that is, to observe. “Tommy Tripe his plates of meat.”

~Top Jint~ (vulgar pronunciation of joint), a pint—of beer.

~Turtle doves~, a pair of gloves.

~Two-foot rule~, a fool.

And so on as occasion requires.

CENTRE SLANG.

Within the past few years the desire to possess a mode of intercommunication which shall be incomprehensible to those who have not taken their degrees in vice, has led the dangerous classes—particularly street-muggers, welchers, skittle-sharps, jerry-hunters, and the various other gentlemen who turn out every morning, when not in charge of the powers that be, to look for their livings—to give their attention to another twist in the English language, and so centre slang has of late been heard with some degree of frequency by those who penetrate to places where there is a likelihood of finding anything new, and take with them sufficient knowledge to comprehend it when, or if, it is found. As this knowledge can never be acquired in any other way than by actual observation, and is not to be obtained by hearsay, or second-hand information, or from books, it is rarely brought to bear upon any subject of this kind as treated in the newspapers, and the articles on real low and criminal life which now and again appear, though extremely amusing, amuse those about whom they are written as much as they do those for whose information they are produced. So, perhaps, those writers who have heard centre slang, and have had opportunity of referring to it, did not know what it was, or certainly, as an institution unique in its way, it would have received some little attention. There is not much in it, of course, as its origin shows, the key being everything towards success in experimentalizing with it. Centre slang, then, is formed by making the central vowel of a word its initial letter, and adding vowels and consonants sufficient to make the sound imposing, or, as cooks say, to flavour palatably. An occasional infusion of back slang is now and again considered advisable, but the taste of the speaker must decide how much is requisite. Mug is a common word to signify a fool or flat; this, in centre slang, becomes Ugmer, or Hugmer, as the speaker likes, while fool and flat themselves become Oolerfer and Atfler respectively. The aspirate can be added, if relished, to any centre slang word. A welcher, by means of the new slang, becomes an Elcherwer or Elchwer, a thief is an Evethee, and a sticker-up of skittles is an Ickitser-pu. As the inventors of this slang are not particular about spelling, phonography is used extensively in its composition—that is, it would be, if it were possible to write centre slang to any extent. However, as it is a spoken language only, and no patent has been taken out for its use, boldness is the chief essential for any one possessed of a mobile tongue and a desire to become expert. There is no Glossary of this slang necessary, as it is only made up of small parcels, as occasion requires, and does not keep well without guiding sentences attached.

THE BIBLIOGRAPHY

OF

SLANG, CANT, AND VULGAR LANGUAGE:

A LIST OF THE

BOOKS CONSULTED IN COMPILING THIS WORK.

Slang has a literary history, the same as authorized language. More than one hundred works have treated upon the subject in one form or other,—a few devoting but a chapter, whilst many have given up their entire pages to expounding its history and use. Old Harman, a worthy man, who interested himself in suppressing and exposing vagabondism in the days of good Queen Bess, was the first to write upon the subject. Decker followed fifty years afterwards, but helped himself, evidently, to his predecessor’s labours. Shakspeare, Beaumont and Fletcher, Ben Jonson, and Brome, each employed beggars’ cant as part of the machinery of their plays. Then came Head (who wrote _The English Rogue_ in 1680) with a Glossary of cant words “used by the Gipsies.” But it was only a reprint of what Decker had given sixty years before. About this time authorized dictionaries began to insert vulgar words, labelling them “cant.” The Jack Sheppards and Dick Turpins of the early and middle part of the last century made cant popular, and many small works were published upon the subject. But it was Grose, burly, facetious Grose, who, in the year 1785, collected the scattered Glossaries of cant and secret words, and formed one large work, adding to it all the vulgar words and slang terms used in his own day. The indelicacy and extreme vulgarity of the work renders it unfit for ordinary use, still it must be admitted that it is by far the most important work which has ever appeared on street or popular language; indeed, from its pages every succeeding work has, up to the present time, drawn its contents. The great fault of Grose’s book consists in the author not contenting himself with slang and cant terms, but inserting every “smutty” and offensive word that could be discovered. However, Harman and Grose are, after all, the only authors who have as yet treated the subject in an original manner, or who have written on it from personal inquiry.

~Ainsworth’s~ (William Harrison) Novels and Ballads. _London_, V. D.

Some of this author’s novels, such as _Rookwood_ and _Jack Sheppard_, abound in Cant words, placed in the mouths of the highwaymen. The author’s ballads (especially “Nix my dolly, pals, fake away”) have long been popular favourites.

~Amorous Gallants’ Tongue tipp’d with Golden Expressions;~ or the Art of Courtship refined, being the best and Newest ACADEMY; containing Select Sentences, forms of Courtship; Choice Letters; Interpretation of Dreams: to which is added Bills, Bonds, Releases, Letters of Attorney, &c.; together with _A Canting Academy_, or the PEDLAR’S FRENCH DICTIONARY, 13th edition. London, for C. Hitch and L. Hawes, n. d. [1740], 12mo.

~A New Dictionary of the Jaunting Crew~, 12mo. N. D.

Mentioned by John Bee in the Introduction to his _Sportsman’s Slang Dictionary_.

~Andrews’~ (George) Dictionary of the Slang and Cant Languages, Ancient and Modern, 12mo. _London_, 1809.

A sixpenny pamphlet, with a coloured frontispiece representing a beggar’s carnival.

~Ash’s~ (John, LL.D.) New and Complete Dictionary of the English Language, 2 vols. 8vo. 1775.

Contains a great number of Cant words and phrases.

~Bacchus and Venus;~ or, A Select Collection of near Two Hundred of the most Witty and Diverting Songs and Catches in Love and Gallantry, with Songs in the Canting Dialect, with a DICTIONARY _explaining all Burlesque and Canting Terms_, 12mo. 1738.

Prefixed is a curious woodcut frontispiece of a _Boozing-Ken_. This work is scarce, and much prized by collectors. The Canting Dictionary appeared before, about 1710, with the initials B. E. on the title. It also came out afterwards, in the year 1751, under the title of the _Scoundrel’s Dictionary_,—a mere reprint of the two former impressions.

~Bailey’s~ (Nath.) Etymological English Dictionary, 2 vols. 8vo. 1737.

Contains a great many Cant and Vulgar Words;—indeed, Bailey does not appear to have been very particular what words he inserted, so long as they were actually in use. _A Collection of Ancient and Modern Cant Words_ appears as an appendix to vol. ii. of this edition (third).

~Bang-up Dictionary;~ or, the Lounger and Sportsman’s Vade-Mecum, containing a copious and correct Glossary of the Language of the Whips, illustrated by a great variety of original and curious Anecdotes, 8vo. 1812.

A vulgar performance, consisting of pilferings from Grose, and made up with meanings of a degraded character.

~Bartlett’s~ Dictionary of Americanisms; a Glossary of Words and Phrases colloquially used in the United States, 8vo. _New York_, 1859.

It is a curious fact connected with slang that a great number of vulgar words common in England are equally common in the United States; and when we remember that America began to be peopled two centuries ago, and that these colloquialisms must have crossed the sea with the first emigrants, we can form some idea of the antiquity of popular or street language. Many words, owing to the caprices of fashion or society, have wholly disappeared in the parent country, whilst in the colonies they are yet heard. The words “skink,” to serve drink in company, and the old term “miching” or “meeching,” skulking or playing truant, for instance, are still in use in the United States, although nearly obsolete here.

~Beaumont and Fletcher’s~ Comedy of _The Beggar’s Bush_, 4to, 1661.

Contains numerous Cant words.

~Bee’s~ (Jon.) Dictionary of the Turf, the Ring, the Chase, the Pit, the Bon Ton, and the Varieties of Life, forming the completest and most authentic Lexicon Balatronicum hitherto offered to the notice of the Sporting World, by John Bee [_i.e._, John Badcock], Editor of the _Fancy_, _Fancy Gazette_, _Living Picture of London_, and the like of that, 12mo. 1823.

This author published books on Stable Economy under the name of Hinds. He was the sporting rival of Pierce Egan. Professor Wilson, in an amusing article in _Blackwood’s Magazine_, reviewed this work.

~Bee’s~ (Jon.) Living Picture of London for 1828, and Stranger’s Guide through the Streets of the Metropolis; showing the Frauds, the Arts, Snares, and Wiles of all descriptions of Rogues that everywhere abound, 12mo. 1828.

Professes to be a guide to society, high and low, in London, and to give an insight into the language of the streets.

~Bee’s~ (Jon.) Sportsman’s Slang; a New Dictionary of Terms used in the Affairs of the Turf, the Ring, the Chase, and the Cockpit; with those of Bon Ton and the Varieties of Life, forming a _Lexicon Balatronicum et Macaronicum_, &c., 12mo, PLATE. _For the Author_, 1825.

The same as the preceding, only with an altered title. Both wretched performances, filled with miserable attempts at wit.

~Blackguardiana;~ or, Dictionary of Rogues, Bawds, &c., 8vo, WITH PORTRAITS [by James Caulfield]. 1795.

This work, with a long and very vulgar title, is nothing but a reprint of Grose, with a few anecdotes of pirates, odd persons, &c., and some curious portraits inserted. It was concocted by Caulfield as a speculation, and published at _one guinea_ per copy; and, owing to the remarkable title, and the notification at the bottom that “only a few copies were printed,” soon became scarce. For philological purposes it is not worth so much as any edition of Grose.

~Book of Vagabonds.~ _See_ under LIBER VAGATORUM.

~Boxiana;~ or, Sketches of Modern Pugilism, by Pierce Egan (an account of the prize-ring), 3 vols. 8vo. 1820.

Gives more particularly the Cant terms of pugilism, but contains numerous (what were then styled) “flash” words.

~Brandon.~ Poverty, Mendicity, and Crime; or, The Facts, Examinations, &c., upon which the Report was founded, presented to the House of Lords by W. A. Miles, Esq., to which is added a Dictionary of the Flash or Cant Language, known to every Thief and Beggar, edited by H. Brandon, Esq., 8vo. 1839.

A very wretched performance.

~Brome’s~ (Rich.) Joviall Crew; or, The Merry Beggars. Presented in a Comedie at the Cockpit, in Drury Lane, in the Year (4to) 1652.

Contains many Cant words similar to those given by Decker,—from whose works they were doubtless obtained.

~Brown’s~ (Rev. Hugh Stowell) Lecture on Manliness, 12mo. 1857.

Contains a few modern Slang words.

~Brydges’~ (Sir Egerton) British Bibliographer, 4 vols. 8vo. 1810-14.

Vol. ii. p. 521, gives a list of Cant words.

~Bulwer’s~ (Sir Edward Lytton) Paul Clifford. V. D.

Contains numerous Cant words.

~Bulwer’s~ (Sir Edward Lytton) Pelham. V. D.

Contains a few Cant terms.

~Butler’s Hudibras~, with Dr. Grey’s Annotations, 3 vols. 8vo. 1819.

Abounding in colloquial terms and phrases.

~Cambridge.~ Gradus ad Cantabrigiam; or, a Dictionary of Terms, Academical and Colloquial, or Cant, which are used at the University, _with Illustrations_, 12mo. _Camb._, 1803.

~Canting:~ A Poem, interspersed with Tales and Additional Scraps, post 8vo. 1814.

A few street words may be gleaned from this rather dull poem.

~Canting Academy:~ or, Villanies Discovered, wherein are shown the Mysterious and Villanous Practices of that Wicked Crew—Hectors, Trapanners, Gilts, &c., with several new Catches and Songs; also Compleat Canting Dictionary, 12mo, _frontispiece_. 1674.

Compiled by Richard Head.

~Canting Dictionary;~ comprehending all the Terms, Antient and Modern, used in the several Tribes of Gypsies, Beggars, Shoplifters, Highwaymen, Foot-Pads, and all other Clans of Cheats and Villains, with Proverbs, Phrases, Figurative Speeches, &c., to which is added a complete Collection of Songs in the Canting Dialect, 12mo. 1725.

The title is by far the most interesting part of the work. A mere make-up of earlier attempts.

~Carew.~ Life and Adventures of Bamfylde Moore Carew, the King of the Beggars, _with Canting Dictionary_, _portrait_, 8vo. 1791.