Down by the Docks, they eat the largest oysters and scatter the roughest oyster-shells,
known to the descendants of Saint George and the Dragon. Down by the Docks, they
consume the slimiest of shell-fish, which seem to have been scraped off the copper
bottoms of ships. Down by the Docks, the vegetables at green-grocers' doors acquire a
saline and a scaly look, as if they had been crossed with fish and seaweed. Down by the
Docks, they 'board seamen' at the eating-houses, the public-houses, the slop-shops, the
coffee-shops, the tally-shops, all kinds of shops mentionable and unmentionable - board
them, as it were, in the piratical sense, making them bleed terribly, and giving no quarter.
Down by the Docks, the seamen roam in mid-street and mid-day, their pockets inside out,
and their heads no better. Down by the Docks, the daughters of wave-ruling Britannia
also rove, clad in silken attire, with uncovered tresses streaming in the breeze, bandanna
kerchiefs floating from their shoulders, and crinoline not wanting. Down by the Docks,
you may hear the Incomparable Joe Jackson sing the Standard of England, with a
hornpipe, any night; or any day may see at the waxwork, for a penny and no waiting, him
as killed the policeman at Acton and suffered for it. Down by the Docks, you may buy
polonies, saveloys, and sausage preparations various, if you are not particular what they
are made of besides seasoning. Down by the Docks, the children of Israel creep into any
gloomy cribs and entries they can hire, and hang slops there - pewter watches, sou'-
wester hats, waterproof overalls - 'firtht rate articleth, Thjack.' Down by the Docks, such
dealers exhibiting on a frame a complete nautical suit without the refinement of a waxen
visage in the hat, present the imaginary wearer as drooping at the yard-arm, with his
seafaring and earthfaring troubles over. Down by the Docks, the placards in the shops
apostrophise the customer, knowing him familiarly beforehand, as, 'Look here, Jack!'
'Here's your sort, my lad!' 'Try our sea-going mixed, at two and nine!' 'The right kit for
the British tar!' 'Ship ahoy!' 'Splice the main- brace, brother!' 'Come, cheer up, my lads.
We've the best liquors here, And you'll find something new In our wonderful Beer!'
Down by the Docks, the pawnbroker lends money on Union-Jack pocket- handkerchiefs,
on watches with little ships pitching fore and aft on the dial, on telescopes, nautical
instruments in cases, and such-like. Down by the Docks, the apothecary sets up in
business on the wretchedest scale - chiefly on lint and plaster for the strapping of wounds
- and with no bright bottles, and with no little drawers. Down by the Docks, the shabby
undertaker's shop will bury you for next to nothing, after the Malay or Chinaman has
stabbed you for nothing at all: so you can hardly hope to make a cheaper end. Down by
the Docks, anybody drunk will quarrel with anybody drunk or sober, and everybody else
