Do you know Alf?  Now, there's a business brain!
It's funny how some blokes can nose out gain.
   Smells money.  It's a gift.  I wish I could:
   An' do the grabbin' while the grabbin's good.
But Alf's got genius, near past belief.
How did he start?  With jist his 'ankeychief.

Jist his ole 'ankeychief, all on his pat --
White cotton one, an' not too clean at that.
   That's how he started.  Waved it in the air,
   An' money came to him from everywhere,
An' now he's set.  A pile of dough he's got,
An' vested int'rests, an' the Lord knows wot.

Ole Alf was down an' out -- on his beam ends --
No boots, no hopes, no tucker, an' no friends;
   He's loafin' down beside a football ground,
   Just cursin' his 'ard luck an' mooching round.
In motor cars he sees the well-fed coots
Come to the match -- an' him with no boots.

Then, like a flash, his inspiration came.
He don't waste time, but hops into the game.
   Out on the road he waves his 'ankeychief
   At one swell motor; barks an order brief,
Points out a parkin' space to his big nob,
Holds out his 'and, and gathers in a bob.

It was dead easy.  'Fore that day was done
A pocket full of shillin's he'd won.
   An' now old Alf 'as got his reg'lar pitch,
   An' rake 'em in, an' looks like growin' rich.
Alf's got the style, the reel commandin' eye
That puts it over motorists first try.
   Brains, ain't it?  Enterprise beyond belief
   A forchin founded on a 'ankeychief.  

"Den"
Herald, 3 September 1929, p6