Chorus.
For the great world’s Exhibition,
Let’s shout with loud huzza,
All Nations never can forget
The glorious First of May.
From every quarter of the Globe
They come across the sea,
And to the Crystal Palace
The wonders for to see;
Raised by the handwork of men
Born on British ground
A Challenge to the universe
It’s equal to be found.
Each friendly nation in the world,
Have their assistance lent,
And to this Exhibition
Have their productions sent;
And with honest zeal and ardour,
With pleasure do repair,
With hands outstretched and gait erect,
To the world’s great National Fair.
The sons of England and France,
And America likewise,
With other nations to contend
To bear away the prize.
With pride depicted in their eyes,
View the offspring of their hand,
Oh, surely England’s greatest wealth
Is an honest working man.
It is a glorious sight to see
So many thousands meet,
Not heeding creed or country,
Each other friendly greet.
Like Children of one mighty Sire
May that sacred tie ne’er cease
May the blood-stained sword of war give way
To the olive branch of peace.
But—hark—the trumpets flourish,
Victoria does approach,
That she may be long spared to us
Shall be our reigning toast.
I trust each heart it will respond,
To what I now propose.
Good will and plenty to her friends,
And confusion to her foes.
Great praise is due to Albert,
For the good that he has done,
May others follow in his steps
The work he has begun,
Then let us all with one accord,
His name give with three cheers,
Shout Huzza for the Crystal Palace,
And the World’s Great National Fair.
SHEEP’S EYES FOR EVER.[22]
Said Hodge, one day, to his son Ned,
“Good news for Neddy,—
I think it’s time that thou should’st wed;”
“Woat’s coming now?” thought Neddy.
“Old age, thou see’st, creeps on apace,
Old Time has led me a pretty long chace,
And thou should’st wed to keep up our race.”
“We’ll au’ll do what au con,” says Neddy.
“There’s farmer Giles’s daughter, Sue,”—
“Au knows her reet weel,” says Neddy,
“Well, her, my lad, I’d have you woo,”—
“She’s but so so,” thought Neddy.
“But tell me feythur, when au goa to woo,
Whot au mun say, aun what au mun do,
For if au knowe, au’m a Turk or a Jew,
But au’ll do whot au con,” says Neddy.
Says farmer Hodge “Come, listen, my son,”
Straight pricked up his ears, did Neddy,
“And I’ll tell thee the way thy mother I won,”
“Now for some fun,” thought Neddy.
“I wink’d, and I blink’d, and I look’d mighty shy,
At her, askance I threw a sheep’s eye,
Till she no longer my suit could deny;”
“Au’ll do it, by Gour,” says Neddy.
So, early next day, to a butcher he went,
Right full of glee was Neddy,
And three or four shillings in sheep’s eyes he spent,
On the wings of love flew Neddy.
And when to the damsel he came to woo,
Out of his pocket some sheep’s eyes drew,
Which one by one at the damsel he threw,
“Au have hur, cock-sure,” says Neddy.
The delicate damsel stood with surprise,
Still firing away kept Neddy,
“What the deuce do you mean by these nasty sheep’s eyes?”
“Ask my feythur abewt it,” says Neddy.
The joke was so good, she could not withstand,
And said, “My purse and money are at your command,”
And dropt him a curtsey, and gave him her hand,
“Sheep’s eyes for ever!” cried Neddy.
CAB, CAB, CAB.[23]
I goes out a cab driving,
And oft the long day through,
In spite of all contriving,
I scarcely make a do.
A Hansom Cab I’ve got,
A handsome horse to trot,
Cab, Cab, Cab, your honour, Cab,
I’ll take you like a shot.
Now, If you’ll hear my ditty,
I’ll tell how I was done,
By a fat man in the City,
Of two and twenty stone.
I plied at Holborn Hill,
Says he, to Pentonville,
Cab, Cab, Cab, I want a Cab,
Drive fast and show your skill.
My horse’s eyes I kivered,
While he got in; you know
If he’d see’d his weight he’d differed
And perhaps refused to go.
To Pentonville I went,
When to me says this here gent,
Cab, Cab, Cab, here’s some mistake,
’Tis Pimlico I meant.
To Pimlico I took him,
My horse as you’d suppose,
This job did nearly cook him,
When again the check string goes.
He says to me, Hallo!
Hold hard a bit, go slow,
Cab, Cab, Cab, you’re wrong again,
Turn back and drive to Bow.
I didn’t like to grumble,
But mounted it once more,
All the way to Bow did trundle,
Where he stopped me as before.
Says he, when there he’d rode,
This isn’t my abode,
Cab, Cab, Cab, I think you’re drunk,
This ain’t the Edgware Road!
Of course I felt vexatious,
But I my temper kept,
To Edgware Road, good gracious,
I took him every step.
My horse was quite done brown,
And I began to frown,
Cab, Cab, Cab, what are you at?
I live at Horseleydown.
To Horseleydown I drive him,
When my horse lay down—don’t grin—
But shelter none would give him,
Think’s I, he’s got no tin!
Where shall I now repair?
To the devil—I don’t care—
Not there, I guess, says I, unless
You give me my back fare!
THE RUSH LIGHT.[24]
Sir Solomon Simons when he did wed,
Blush’d black as a crow, his fair lady did blush light,
The clock struck twelve, they were both tuck’d in bed,
In the chimney a Rush light,
A little farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
A little Farthing Rush light.
Sir Solomon gave his Lady a nudge,
Cries he, Lady Simons there’s vastly too much light,
Then, Sir Solomon, says she, to get up you can’t grudge,
And blow out the Rush light
The little Farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
The little Farthing Rush light,
Sir Solomon then out of bed pops his toes,
And vastly he swore, and very much did curse light,
And then to the Chimney, Sir Solomon he goes,
And he puff’d at the Rush light,
The little Farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
The little Farthing Rush light.
Lady Simons gets out in her night-cap so neat,
And over the carpet my lady did brush light,
And there Sir Solomon she found in a heat,
Puffing at the Rush light.
Then she puff’d at the Rush light,
But neither of them both,
Could blow out the Rush light.
Sir Solomon and lady, their breath quite gone,
Rang the bells in a rage, determined to crush light,
Half asleep in his shirt then up came John,
And he puff’d at the Rush light,
The little Farthing Rush light,
But neither of the three
Could blow out the Rush light.
Cook, Coachee, men and maids, very near all in buff,
Came, and swore, in their lives they never met with such light,
And each of the family by turns had a puff,
At the little Farthing Rush light,
The curst Farthing Rush light,
But none of the family
Could blow out the Rush light.
The Watchman at last went by, crying One,
Here, Watchman, come up, than you we might on worse light,
Then up came the Watchman, the Bus’ness was done,
For he turn’d down the Rush light,
The little Farthing Rush light,
Fal, lal, lal, lal, la,
So he put out the Rush light.