I tella you straight dat da troub not stop
   When Nick (like I tole you before)
He t'row dat Black Sammo, necka-da-crop,
   Right outa da fish-shop door
An' Nick tell Sammo he notta come back
   To wash-a da dirt dish.
So Sammo, sa black, he getta da sack
   An' lose-a da good posish.

I tella you too how da row begin
   When Nicko go uppa da air
'Cos Sammo, he dark like da Abba-da-sin,
   Well, I t'inkin' it feenish dere.
But no.  Nex' night Nick go to da club
   He locka da fish-shop door,
An' he not looka now for any more troub;
   Cos he t'ink dat he winna da war.

But Sammo, da slush, he don't say die
   Whe Nicko come home dat night.
He look t'ru da winda an' rubba da eye,
   Cos da fish-shop all alight,
An' in dere, havin' da good tuck-in
   At da fish an' da bread-a-da-but,
Is Sammo an' t'ree more Abba-da-sin,
   An' da front foor fasten shut.

Like for da festa da table's spread
   Da steak-a-da-aig an' da fish,
Da oyst an' da wine bot, white an' da red,
   An' da spesh nutta-sundae dish.
Den Nicko he yell: "Ah!  Corpo da Bac!
   T'ief!  Letta me into my shop!"
But Sammo he grin, "Dis da counter-attack."
   So Nicko he go for da cop.

Poor Nicko, he searcha da street all t'ru.
   But he can't make for catch-a da cop;
An' he all da time t'ink what dem black-a-men do
   To his nice, cleam fry-fish shop.
But da shop desert, an' da bird all float
   When da cop in da end he find.
But scrawl on da nice, clean clot' is da note
   What-a black Sam leave-a behind.

"Dear Nicko," it say.  "Wit' da reinforce
   We make-a da counter-attack.
T'anks for da wine an' da meal -- t'ree course.
   Now we t'inkin' we better evac.
How you like-a da strat-a-da getic shock?
   We make him whenever we wish,
Now, porco da Nicko, you pull up da sock,
   An' wash-a my dirty dish!"

"Den"
Herald, 12 October 1935, p6