Green’s Dictionary of Slang

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Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds choose

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[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 244: When this phrase had numbered its appointed days, it died away like its predecessors, and ‘who are you?’ reigned in its stead. This new favourite, like a mushroom, seems to have sprung up in a night, or, like a frog in Cheapside, to have come down in a sudden shower. One day it was unheard, unknown, uninvented; the next it pervaded London. Every alley resounded with it; every highway was musical with it [...] The phrase was uttered quickly, and with a sharp sound upon the first and last words, leaving the middle one little more than an aspiration. Like all its compeers which had been extensively popular, it was applicable to almost every variety of circumstance.
at who are you?, phr.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 246: Every youth on the town was seized with the fierce desire of distinguishing himself by knocking down the ‘charlies,’ being locked up all night in a watch-house, or kicking up a row among loose women and blackguard men in the low dens of St. Giles’s.
at charlie, n.1
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 247: Several other songs sprang up in due succession [...] but none of them, with the exception of one, entitled ‘All round my hat,’ enjoyed any extraordinary share of favour, until an American actor introduced a vile song called ‘Jim Crow.’ The singer sang his verses in appropriate costume, with grotesque gesticulations, and a sudden whirl of his body at the close of each verse. It took the taste of the town immediately, and for months the ears of orderly people were stunned by the senseless chorus — ‘Turn about and wheel about, / And do just so– / Turn about and wheel about, / And jump, Jim Crow’.
at Jim Crow, n.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 242: The next phrase was a most preposterous one. Who invented it, how it arose, or where it was first heard, are alike unknown. nothing about it is certain, but that for months it was the slang par excellence of the Londoners, and afforded them a vast gratification. ‘There he goes with his eye out!’ or ‘There she goes with her eye out!’ [...] was in the mouth of every body who knew the town. The sober part of the community were as much puzzled by this unaccountable saying as the vulgar were delighted with it. The wise thought it very foolish, but the many thought it very funny, and the idle amused themselves by chalking it upon walls, or scribbling it upon monuments.
at there he goes with his eye out! (excl.) under eye, n.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 242: Its successor enjoyed a more extended fame [...] This phrase was ‘Flare up!’ and it is, even now, a colloquialism in common use. It took its rise in the time of the Reform riots, when Bristol was nearly half burned by the infuriated populace. The flames were said to have flared up in the devoted city. Whether there was anything peculiarly captivating in the sound, or in the idea of these words, is hard to say; but whatever was the reason, it tickled the mob fancy mightily, and drove all other slang out of the field before it. Nothing was to be heard all over London but ‘flare up!’ It answered all questions, settled all disputes, was applied to all persons, all things, and all circumstances, and became suddenly the most comprehensive phrase in the English language.
at flare up!, excl.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 244: The next phrase that enjoyed the favour of the million [...] seems to have been originally aimed against precocious youths who gave themselves the airs of manhood before their time. ‘Does your mother know you’re out?’, was the provoking query addressed to young men of more than reasonable swagger, who smoked cigars in the streets, and wore false whiskers to look irresistible. We have seen many a conceited fellow who could not suffer a woman to pass him without staring her out of countenance, reduced at once into his natural insignificance by the mere utterance of this phrase.
at does your mother know you’re out? under mother, n.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 242: Another very odd phrase came into repute in a brief space afterwards, in the form of the impertinent and not universally apposite query, ‘Has your mother sold her mangle?’ But its popularity was not of that boisterous and cordial kind which ensures a long continuance of favour. What tended to impede its progress was, that it could not be well applied to the older portions of society. It consequently ran but a brief career, and then sank into oblivion.
at has your mother sold her mangle (and bought a piano)? under mother, n.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 240: Many years ago the favourite phrase (for, though but a monosyllable, it was a phrase in itself) was Quoz. This odd word took the fancy of the multitude in an extraordinary degree, and very soon acquired an almost boundless meaning. When vulgar wit wished to mark its incredulity, and raise a laugh at the same time, there was no resource so sure as this popular piece of slang. When a man was asked a favour which he did not choose to grant, he marked his sense of the suitor’s unparalleled presumption by exclaiming Quoz! When a mischievous urchin wished to annoy a passenger, and create mirth for his comrades, he looked him in the face, and cried out Quoz! and the exclamation never failed in its object. When a disputant was desirous of throwing a doubt upon the veracity of his opponent, and getting summarily rid of an argument which he could not overturn, he uttered the word Quoz, with a contemptuous curl of his lip and an impatient shrug of his shoulders.
at quoz!, excl.
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions 325: Many years ago the favourite phrase (for, though but a monosyllable, it was a phrase in itself) was quoz. This odd word took the fancy of the multitude in an extraordinary degree, and very soon acquired an almost boundless meaning.
at quoz, n.1
[Scot] C. Mackay Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions (1869) 241: Hookey Walker, derived from the chorus of a popular ballad, was also high in favour at one time, and served [...] to answer all questions. In the course of time the latter word alone became the favourite, and was uttered with a peculiar drawl upon the first syllable, a sharp turn upon the last. If a lively servant girl was importuned for a kiss by a fellow she did not care about, she cocked her little nose, and cried ‘Walker!’ If a dustman asked his friend for the loan of a shilling, and his friend was either unable or unwilling to accommodate him, the probable answer he would receive was, ‘Walker!’ If a drunken man was reeling about the streets, and a boy pulled his coat-tails, or a man knocked his hat over his eyes to make fun of him, the joke was always accompanied by the same exclamation. This lasted for two or three months, and ‘Walker!’ walked off the stage, never more to be revived for the entertainment of that or any future generation.
at walker!, excl.
[Scot] N. Baker Delusions 80: She could still piss up a storm, she could still be frightened.
at piss up a storm (v.) under piss, v.
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