The True Meaning of Snide
A man walks up ter me, says m’ Snide by name and nature. I say, why, ‘course I am mister, any poor fellow been in Bree two nights knows tha’!
He asks me if really I am, cos boys o’twelve ain’ often hunted up all the reputations I have. I say Jim-bob, yer bet yer coppers n’silvers tha’ I am who I says I am. Bu’ Nanny Tatters once tol’ me a stretch too long can snap a goodun’, so I told him he best hang on to his gold coins in tha’ bet jus’ ter be safe.
I often go’ folks bangin’ on me doors, boomin’ ou’ ter see me in bellows. Where’s me coins Snide? Where’s me keys? Where’s me sweets? Sweets, or yummies as we call ‘em down in The Crook, reckon I pinched a good few o’those in this wee life o’mine. Sends waves o’ colour to me tastes n’ sights! I canna be affordin’ me own, cos Pap damn near bleeds me pockets dry. I ain’ so mean and miserable when me bellies full of sugar.
Quick! Ducker down and haunch them boulders yer call shoulders, a watchers prowlin’ by! Gotta raise me guard like a knight o’Gondor, cos I reckon I’ll be wrangled up again after hightailin’ i’ away from the loony land! They ain’ changed my ways, nor will any other poor soul who crosses likes o’me. Tha' weren' no prison, i' were fer kids. N' I ain' no kid, no sir-ree Jim-bob! Shackle me fer executions n' hang me by all means, bu' don' choke me ou' wi' frilly collars bou' me windpipes.
M'Snide, n' I reckon there's only one o'me ou' there in this big world. N' if there ain', then they jus' be copycats n' rapscallions pinchin' me namesake. Ain' no one pinchin' my name, because between tha' n' lanters light', why, me names one o' the only things I go' left.
