mot

Come wed, my dear, and let's agree, / Then of the booze-ken you'll be free; / No sneer from cully, mot, or froe / Dare then reproach my Bess for Joe; / For he's the kiddy rum and queer, / That all St. Giles's boys do fear.

After some altercation with the "mot" of the "ken" (mistress of the lodging-house) about the cleanliness of a knife or fork, my new acquaintance began to arrange "ground," &c., for the night's work.