"A DIVIDED DUTY."
["What we fail to perceive, at least to any adequate extent, in the pleadings of the spokesman of the Lancashire Cotton Trade, is a recognition of the paramount importance, even from a commercial point of view, of the Imperial interests that depend on the just and liberal government of India." —The Times.]
Air—"Green Grow the Rushes, O!"
Mr. John Bull sings:—
Ding-dong the lasses go! My patience it quite passes, O!
My brain it turns, though with Rob Burns, I dearly love the lasses, O!
There's right and wrong on either hand; that's clear to all but asses, O!
So hold your whist, drop each your fist, and to me list, fair lasses, O!
Lancashire lass, I like you well. You're buxom, brave, and bonny, O!
But do not slight your sense of right in hasty greed of money, O!
When North v. South "clemmed" many a mouth, what patient, patriot spirit, O!
Lancashire showed! All England glowed. That spirit you inherit, O!
But in your wrath you've missed the path of fair and patriot dealing, O!
Nay, do not pout. You'll wake, no doubt, to right Imperial feeling, O!
The Empire's wide and can't be tied by shackles greed-begotten, O!
My only duty now, my beauty, 's not—to sell your cotton, O!
Of bulk and bale your sale won't fail—if you keep up the quality, O!
And do not trust to "devil's-dust"—which mars our merchant-polity, O!
Some rascal-muffs, with loaded stuffs, have spoiled the Eastern market, O!
Miss India there will tell you where, and when she whispers, hark it, O!
But with good goods you'll hold your own, despite that import duty, O!
But you can't have all your own way, my bold—but angry—beauty, O!
Miss India, there needs constant care; she has not your resources, O!
You raise your voice against my choice 'twixt two unwelcome courses, O!
But I—though loth—considering both on my responsibility, O!
Have done my best, and for my pains from both meet incivility, O!
I've tried to bear the balance fair, 'twixt countries, trades, and classes, O!
And lo! my lot is anger hot from both you bickering lasses, O!
Miss India's eyes, at the Excise, excitedly are flashing, O!
My dusky dear, 'tis hard to steer 'twixt interests wildly clashing, O!
I love ye both, and I were loth to make—or see—ye quarrel, O!
But—a divided duty's mine, and that's my homily's moral, O!
And so, my dears, abate your fears, and likewise stint your shindy, O!
The Lass of Lancashire should shake hands with the Lass from "Indy," O!
I'll do my best for East and West. Brim high three bumper glasses, O!
And let's drink health, and love, and wealth to both my bonny lasses, O!