Away in a sewer, no crib for his bedThe little scamp Icksquick laid down his sweet headThe rats in the brickwork looked down on his plightThe little scamp Icksquick asleep in the shiteThe rodents are squeaking, the scamp he awakesBut Icksquick's a Scruffian, no crying He makesHe digs out a morsel to feed to his chumsA ratcatcher's hand what is missing its thumbBe near me, sweet Icksquick, them