The Arab Steed

I gave the 'orse 'is evenin' feed,     And bedded of 'im down,     And went to 'ear the sing-song     In the bar-room of the Crown,     And one young feller spoke a piece     As told a kind of tale,     About an Arab man wot 'ad     A certain 'orse for sale.     I 'ave no grudge against the man —     I never 'eard 'is name,     But if he was my closest pal     I'd say the very same,     For wot you do in other things     Is neither 'ere nor there,     But w'en it comes to 'orses     You must keep upon the square.     Now I'm tellin' you the story     Just as it was told last night,     And if I wrong this Arab man     Then 'e can set me right;     But s'posin' all these fac's are fac's,     Then I make bold to say     That I think it was not sportsmanlike     To act in sich a way.     For, as I understand the thing,     'E went to sell this steed —     Which is a name they give a 'orse     Of some outlandish breed —,     And soon 'e found a customer,     A proper sportin' gent,     Who planked 'is money down at once     Without no argument.     Now when the deal was finished     And the money paid, you'd think     This Arab would 'ave asked the gent     At once to name 'is drink,     Or at least 'ave thanked 'im kindly,     An' wished 'im a good day,     And own as 'e'd been treated     In a very 'andsome way.     But instead o' this 'e started     A-talkin' to the steed,     And speakin' of its "braided mane"     An' of its "winged speed,"     And other sich expressions     With which I can't agree,     For a 'orse with wings an' braids an' things     Is not the 'orse for me.     The moment that 'e 'ad the cash —     Or wot 'e called the gold,     'E turned as nasty as could be:     Says 'e, "You're sold! You're sold!"     Them was 'is words; it's not for me     To settle wot he meant;     It may 'ave been the 'orse was sold,     It may 'ave been the gent.     I've not a word to say agin     His fondness for 'is 'orse,     But why should 'e insinivate     The gent would treat 'im worse?     An' why should 'e go talkin'     In that aggravatin' way,     As if the gent would gallop 'im     And wallop 'im all day?     It may 'ave been an' 'arness 'orse,     It may 'ave been an 'ack,     But a bargain is a bargain,     An' there ain't no goin' back;     For when you've picked the money up,     That finishes the deal,     And after that your mouth is shut,     Wotever you may feel.     Supposin' this 'ere Arab man     'Ad wanted to be free,     'E could 'ave done it businesslike,     The same as you or me;     A fiver might 'ave squared the gent,     An' then 'e could 'ave claimed     As 'e'd cleared 'imself quite 'andsome,     And no call to be ashamed.     But instead 'o that this Arab man     Went on from bad to worse,     An' took an' chucked the money     At the cove wot bought the 'orse;     'E'd 'ave learned 'im better manners,     If 'e'd waited there a bit,     But 'e scooted on 'is bloomin' steed     As 'ard as 'e could split.     Per'aps 'e sold 'im after,     Or per'aps 'e 'ires 'im out,     But I'd like to warm that Arab man     Wen next 'e comes about;     For wot 'e does in other things     Is neither 'ere nor there,     But w'en it comes to 'orses     We must keep 'im on the square.