 | The reason why |  |
THE REASON WHY
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Air, “A' Marchin' thro' Flanders.” The following Original Song has been sent to the “League,” by the Author, Dr. Chas. Mackay.
There once was a time but it's happily past,
When the cupboard of Labour was bare,
When our wives and our children were fated to fast
And we toiled in the shade of despair.
But things have grown better, there's joy in the street,
And coin in the purse brings the light to the eye;
And the loaf has grown big, and we've pudding to eat,
And we all know the reason why.
When the cupboard of Labour was bare,
When our wives and our children were fated to fast
And we toiled in the shade of despair.
But things have grown better, there's joy in the street,
And coin in the purse brings the light to the eye;
And the loaf has grown big, and we've pudding to eat,
And we all know the reason why.
We can sit by the fire when our labour is done,
With our children as rosy as morn,
And grateful and healthy get up with the sun
That ripens the bountiful corn.
We can pay for the book, we can pay for the school,
The gown and the shawl for our wives we can buy;
And the Man, we should think, is a bit of a fool
Who knows not the reason why.
With our children as rosy as morn,
And grateful and healthy get up with the sun
That ripens the bountiful corn.
We can pay for the book, we can pay for the school,
The gown and the shawl for our wives we can buy;
And the Man, we should think, is a bit of a fool
Who knows not the reason why.
No longer heart-broken, or scowling with hate,
To the doors of the workhouse we throng;
We feel no ill-will to the rich and the great,
Nor harbour a thought to do wrong.
We read of revolts and of rows, and what not,
But “England, and God save the Queen!” is our cry;
We are well as we are, we have beef in the pot,
And we all know the reason why.
To the doors of the workhouse we throng;
We feel no ill-will to the rich and the great,
Nor harbour a thought to do wrong.
We read of revolts and of rows, and what not,
But “England, and God save the Queen!” is our cry;
We are well as we are, we have beef in the pot,
And we all know the reason why.
And should Mr. Dizzy, or Darby the busy,
Or other Protectionist oaf,
Attempt but so much as a finger to lay
On the slice of an Englishman's loaf,
We'll read them a lesson. to cure them, we trust,
And end the dispute they're so ready to try;
On them be the blame—for if fight them we must,
We'll show them the reason why.
Or other Protectionist oaf,
Attempt but so much as a finger to lay
On the slice of an Englishman's loaf,
We'll read them a lesson. to cure them, we trust,
And end the dispute they're so ready to try;
On them be the blame—for if fight them we must,
We'll show them the reason why.
| The reason why | |