if it ain't jack be nimble, jack be quick.
so i'm hearin' things from little birdies in harlem and queens and all over. they're chirpin' in my ear: 'jackie-boy's newsies are playin' like they're goin' on strike -- '
what's this, jackie boy? some kind of walkin' mouth?
so they told me. and what did they tell you? david looks nervously at the circling henchmen.
you're right. brains. but i got brains, too -- and more than half-a-one. how do i know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes atcha with a club? how do i know you're in it to win?
not good enough, jackie-boy. you gotta show me.
nice try, pal. but that's just what i'm talkin' about. show me this strike ain't just some kids do-or-dare, then we'll talk.
so, ya showed me! now i'll show you what brooklyn can do --! the thugs retreat from the merciless slingshots -- jack rallies his newsies and leads a screaming charge as the thugs hurry behind the gates, closing them. jack and spot spit in their palms, shake hands as --
where's me pitch'a? where's me pitch'a? boots all them words -- are they all about us -- ?
stop t'inkin' about yaself and let 'im read!
any scab i see, i soak 'em -- period!
i don't care what they say -- some of us ain't made to just take it! i say anybody hurts us, we hurts them worst! who's with me?
i say --
i say.  what you say.  i say! spits in his palm and they shake. a huge roar goes up and the boys thrust their hands up in triumph -- but the applause isn't for them but for the curtain rising behind them revealing the dazzling vision of medda, who walks smiling downstage and begins -- *
judge movealong, ya honor, i object.
on the grounds of brooklyn, ya honor! the newsies congratulate spot. monahan gavels.
you bummers is givin' me a headache.
nachally spot conlon is needed wherever -- which right now is brooklyn. some of my boys is worried, i must give ear to their concerns --
-- and reassure them. as he starts out, he passes denton, coming in. denton hardly notices him as he moves up to the table and is greeted by the boys. he seems grim, bitter.
look.  i'm seein' t'ings.  tell me i'm seeing t'ings -- ! david and the others look in disbelief -- walking with the scabs is jack, wearing a tight new suit, flanked by weasel and other goons. as jack moves past, staring straight ahead, the chant dies.
he sold us out! ya dirty scab, i'll murder ya -- !
take it easy, jackie- boy. ya ever get in a spot -- -- think of me.