With but Five in the till,
To discharge the bill,
And even that Five, too, whipt away!
Stop thief! stop thief!—
From the Sub to the Chief,
These Gemmen of Finance are plundering cattle—
Call the watch—call Brougham,
Tell Joseph Hume,
That best of Charleys, to spring his rattle.
Whoever will bring
This aforesaid thing
To the well-known House of Robinson and Jenkin,
Shall be paid, with thanks,
In the notes of banks,
Whose Funds have all learned "the Art of Sinking."
O yes! O yes!
Can anybody guess
What the devil has become of this Treasury wonder?
It has Pitt's name on't,
All brass, in the front,
And Robinson's, scrawled with a goose-quill under.
[1] In 1824, when the Sinking Fund was raised by the imposition of new taxes to the sum of five millions.
ODE TO THE GODDESS CERES.
BY SIR THOMAS LETHBRIDGE.
"legiferoe Cereri Phoeboque."—VERGIL.
Dear Goddess of Corn whom the ancients, we know,
(Among other odd whims of those comical bodies,)
Adorned with somniferous poppies to show
Thou wert always a true Country-gentleman's Goddess.
Behold in his best shooting-jacket before thee
An eloquent 'Squire, who most humbly beseeches.
Great Queen of Mark-lane (if the thing doesnt bore thee),
Thou'lt read o'er the last of his—never-last speeches.