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ENGLAND IN 1844.
1
Rascaldom, Parsondom,Lazy big Beggardom,
Playing the fool!
Helping with less and less
Fast-growing wretchedness!
Catch'd Cayley creakingly,
“Young England” sneakingly
Shearing calves' wool!
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2
Breadtaxers stealing rates;John thinking Church-and-state's
Hell is broke loose!
Brassface and Timberface
Half-fac'd by Doubleface!
Foul things, with mouths and legs,
Brawling o'er broken eggs!
Killing the goose!
3
Four thousand poachers caught;Rascalry's statute-taught
Doctors of laws!
Richmondites next to be?
Teaching philosophy!
Cunning, sans intellect,
Sworn to deny th' effect,
Aiding the cause.
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4
Rusbrooke and Sotheron,Kept loobies, duller none,
Not telling lies!
Benett's slaves full of cheer,
“Except when food is dear!”
Benett, to keep it dear,
Talking of cheaper beer—
Juice, and no pies!
5
Law working ruin well;Saints gladly bound for hell,
Ticketed “Liars;”
Gamblers employing us;
Idlers destroying us;
Squires cursing Manchester!
Rickburning Lankester
Wise as the squires.
6
Whigs, for th' exchequer's good,Lauding restricted food;
Cheer'd by the House!
Dead-alive Peasantry
Lov'd by the Pheasantry!
Colville exhorting them;
Rous for exporting them!
Why not ship Rous?
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7
Young Wodehouse crustily,Old Wodehouse fustily,
Crying dear wares;
Married life dog and cat;
Fat rascals scar'd and fat;
Richmond to hawk his fish,
Knatchbull to beg a dish
Doom'd—And who cares?
8
Jacky FinalityStill, for the “quality,”
Trying to mend;
Lords cracking Stithy's cup;
Locking his smithys up;
Vow'd to keep hare and quail
Sacred to church and jail;
Blind to the end!
9
Fast-and-Loose almost fast;Crack'd Stanley sent at last
Where he'll seem wise;
Plenty the farmer's hell,
Sliding scale works so well!
Radnor, and Common Sense,
(Confound their impudence!)
Calling lies lies.
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10
Daily a stinted storeDooming its thousand more
Hopeless to strive,
Till mind o'er might prevail;
Or till endurance fail?
Till the oppressor die,
By gaunt Extremity
Eaten alive!
11
Man against man array'd,Famine their battle blade,
Struggling for doom!
Starv'd Erin's catholic,
Mining in Bishoprick;
Brimless hat, lacking crown,
Starving the saxon down,
Till the end come!
12
Gunpowder quenching flame;Jesus a hated name,
Worship a breath;
Inglis sublime as Thom;
Government Peeping Tom;
Hunger the only Power!
Scowling round town and tower,
Darker than death!
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13
Toil earning wretchedness;Capital profitless,
Eating his teeth!
Grim mis'ry's tongue of fire
Seen o'er the famine-spire!
Sorrow and verity
Sobbing, “Prosperity
Moulders beneath!”
14
Cobden, our “Man of Men,”Doing the work of ten,
Each worth a score!
Bright, (star and dove of peace,
Hampden of love and peace,)
Villiers, (for honest men,
Storming the robber's den,)
Worth fifty more!
15
Peel hardest task'd of all,Gagg'd, kick'd, and mask'd for all,
Cooking his hash;
Slander'd man, wily man,
Bare back, and empty pan,
Gloomily waiting all
For the great general,
General Crash!
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16
Trade on her dying bed,Lifting her languid head,
Smiles, with sad brow!
Land Leeches, damning us,
Cry, “She was bamming us!”
Farmers, in luck again,
Trying to suck again,
Milk a dead cow!
The cream of this dismal jest is that the aristocracy are incurring the odium of the gamelaws, chiefly for the benefit of their imitators! The Puppydom of a town or district establishes a shooting-club; that of another a fishing-club; and in both prosecution is persecution— to the glory of the squires! It sometimes happens that a Hunt is got up in a manufacturing village; and this is as it should be. The magistracy, called upon to make good the broken fences of the farmer, are not a little betwittered. And if the hedgegapper happens to be—not a red or green-back, belonging to his whipper-in—but some filth of a filesmith, or glueboiler, or other “low varment,” Tomkins blusters tremendously!
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