"THE GOOD OLD TIMES."
The "good old times" are past, my boys,
The "good old times" are past,
And, if it's true what Hist'ry says,
It's lucky we live in other days
Than the "good times" past;
Then the Noble's might was the only right,
But the people have grown stronger:
The iron collar's off their necks—
Thank God they're dogs no longer!
The "good old times" are past, my boys,
The "good old times" are past,
When the skies were bloody with martyr fires,
And daughters lighted their fathers' pyres,
In the "good times" past.
Then, mothers at the stake gave birth;
And, to make their sufferings stronger,
Had their new-born babe flung in the flames—
Thank God, we burn no longer!
The "good old times" are past, my boys,
The "good old times" are past,
When we kill'd—not kept—our aged poor,—
Burnt them as witches by the score,
In the "good times" past.
Then a child of five was burnt alive,
For making the tempest stronger;
And a dog they tried, and a corpse beside—
Thank God, that lasts no longer!
The "good old times" are past, my boys,
The "good old times" are past,
When the balls were cut from each dog's paw,
For fear they should hunt—so ran the law,
In the "good times" past.
Then manure, they said, was bad for the game,
And rendered the flavour stronger;
So they made it death to Manure the land—
Thank God, that lasts no longer!
The "good old times" are past, my boys,
The "good old times" are past,
When the walls of Temple Bar were spread
With many a "traitor's" rotting head,
In the "good times" past.
Then for forty shillings men were hung,
And the thirst for blood grew stronger
Man's life was valued then at a sheep's—
Thank God, that lasts no longer!
What it must come to, at last, if the Ladies go on blowing themselves out as they do!
BLOWING UP ONE'S WIFE.