MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING IN THE CITY
Sigh no more dealers, sigh no more,
Shares were unstable ever,
They often have been down before,
At high rates constant never.
Then sigh not so,
Soon up they'll go,
And you'll be blithe and funny,
Converting all your notes of woe
Into hey, money, money.
Write no more letters, write no mo
On stocks so dull and heavy.
At times on 'Change 'tis always so,
When bears a tribute levy.
Then sigh not so,
And don't be low,
In sunshine you'll make honey,
Converting all your notes of woe,
Into hey, money, money.
"The Deserted Village."—London in September.
The Clockmaker's Paradise.—Seven Dials.
