By selling fish at Hungerford, and knocking up old Billingsgate;
Another takes your linen, when it's dirty, to the suds, sir,
And brings it home in carriages with four nice bits of blood, sir.
Run, neighbours, run, you're just in time to get a share
In all the famous bubbles that amuse John Bull.
When Greenwich coaches go by steam on roads of iron railing, sir,
How pleasant it will be to see a dozen in a line;
And ships of heavy burden over hills and valleys sailing, sir,
Shall cross from Bristol's Channel to the Tweed or Tyne.
And Dame Speculation, if she ever fully hath her ends,