Battle of—A GIN COURT!
ir Richard Burnie sad, declares that never in his time,
Was seen so much depravity, want, misery and crime;
And all the brawls—the roitings—the day and nightly din,
Are caused by what he never tasted! filthy! horrid Gin!
Gin, Gin, Booth’s Cordial Gin, &c.
n India, when a Husband dies—the Widow ne’er can smile,
She’s burnt alive, a sacrifice, upon her husband’s pile;
In London many Wives and Widows deem it not a sin,
To sacrifice and burn themselves alive with fire of Gin.
Gin, Gin, Sir Robert Burnett’s Gin, &c.
ecrepit age with furrow’d face, and one foot in the grave,
Hobbles on his crutches, and for a drop does crave;
Infants, e’er they plainly talk, perk up each little chin
And cry, oh mammy, daddy, baby ’ont a d’op o’ din.
Gin, Gin, Currie’s strong Gin, &c.
Gin Lane.