A MIDDLESEX BALLAD.
Air.—"And shall Trelawney die?"
A baize board and a crafty 'and,
And a racing print or two;
Didn't we once just understand,
The sporting gents to do?
And 'ave they fixed the where and when,
And shall the system die?
Then 'alf a thousand betting men
Will know the reason why.
And shall they scorn Meg, Math, and "Ben,"
And shall the system die?
There's 'alf a thousand in our trade
Who'll know the reason why.
Out spake Flash Billy, blithe and bold.
A horse-shoe pin wore he:
"Deposits on a race to 'old
Shall we no more be free?
When we could grasp them in our 'and,
The system used to pay;
For when rum tidings reached the Strand,
'Twas—'Shutters up—away!'"
And shall they scorn Meg, Math, and "Ben," &c.
A plague upon St. Stephen's wall,
Where not one cove stood true;
We'll make that Palmerston look small.
For working this 'ere screw:
The Turf you 'ave betrayed, as 'ow
You swear 'er lists shall die;
But 'alf a thousand betting men
Will know the reason why.
And shall they scorn Meg, Math, and "Ben," &c.