THE DRAY QUEEN.
A Car-men on the May-day Carnival, after the Poet Lorry-ate.
YOU must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear!
To-morrow'll be the liveliest time of all the glad New Year;
Of all the glad New Year, mother, the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
There'll be many a black, black eye, they say, and many a lively shine
With Margaret and Mary, and Kate and Caroline;
But none can lick this little Alice, in all the court, they say;
So I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
I sleep so sound all night, mother, that I shall never wake
If you do not call loud and give me, too, a jolly good shake;
As I must buy some bonnet-flowers and sky-blue ribbons gay,
For I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
As I came up our alley, whom think ye I should see?
But Robin leaning on Chisenhale Bridge, as screwed as he could be;
He had been cleaning his harness, mother, and drinking all the day;
But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
You know my Robin drives a dray, a heavy brewer's cart;
To-morrow with his handsome team of horses he will start
A-roaming up and down the streets, loafing about all day,
And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
To-morrow I'll get out of pawn my bran-new winsey frock,
For Robin he is sure to wear a reg'lar snow-white smock;
His dray is cleaned and painted up, and now looks very gay,
And I must be clean on the Dray, mother, I must be clean on the Dray.
The horses' tails all nicely combed, with ribbons will be decked,
Upon the shining harness not a smirch you can detect,
The very brutes they seem to feel it is the first of May,
And I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
Upon the barrels I'll sit perched, the barrels all so full
Of smashing stuff they sell for beer, and give you the long pull.
My Robin rarely touches beer—for 'Rum's my drink,' he'll say—
But I'm to be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.
Through Lime-street, Lord-street, we'll parade each leading thoroughfare,
While the spectators rival teams and turn-outs will compare,
On brewers' and on millers' carts the brazen bands will play,
And I'll be Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be Queen o' the Dray.
* * * * *
For hours and hours we'll roam about, until the team it tires,
And Robin will imbibe more rum than he actually requires;
At many a 'public' he will stop a-moistening of his clay,
And I'll be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'll be the Queen o' the Dray.
* * * * *
So you must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear.
If I don't seem to hear you, give me a smack upon the ear;
To-morrow'll be of all the year, the maddest, merriest day,
For I'm to be the Queen o' the Dray, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the Dray.