THOMAS M. SCROGGY, Publisher, CARD AND FANCY JOB PRINTER, No. 443 Vine Street, above Twelfth, Philad.
Come all you jolly rowdies
Who delight to fires to run,
Come join a saucy crowd down town,
Called Scrougers, No. 1.
It was on the 29th of July,
It was on a Thursday night,
We went down to the Ram’s corner,
With the purpose to raise a fight.
They thought, by pulling out their pistols,
They would make us run away;
But they soon found out it was a game
We all knew how to play.
We drove them from their corner,
And that with little noise;
And then they seen all that was done,
By seven Scrouger boys.
D. K. came out in the street, with a pistol in hand,
Crying come on, bravo Rams, I will take you in command.
When we rushed upon them they found it was no go,
We drove them up Second Street, with tracks not very slow.
One of their brave boys came out with a big knife,
A fellow gave him a punch, he ran for his life,
He left with tracks not very slow,
He knew if he did not leave he would get another blow.
On the same night they made a plot,
To fight us down on the canal lot.
We all did go as we said,
They did not come, because they were afraid.
Bad luck attend the Rams,
And to all who honor the name,
A warning to all other crowds,
For they will be brought to grief and shame.
Drink a toast to the Scrougers,
And let this toast go round,
For we are the first to fight,
And last to leave the ground.
Success attend the Scrougers,
And to all who revere the name,
Likewise to the Shiffler Hose,
For we all go in for the same.