The Bulls and the Bears all fell a sobbing,
When they heard of the fate of poor Cock Robin:
While thus, to the nursery tune, so pretty,
A murmuring Stock-dove breathed her ditty:—
Alas, poor Robin, he crowed as long
And as sweet as a prosperous Cock could crow;
But his note was small and the gold-finch's song
Was a pitch too high for Robin to go.
Who'll make his shroud?
"I," said the Bank, "tho' he played me a prank,
"While I have a rag, poor Rob shall be rolled in't,
"With many a pound I'll paper him round,
"Like a plump rouleau—without the gold in it."
[1] "Another objection to a metallic currency was, that it produced a greater number of highway robberies."—Debate in the Lords.
[2] Mr. Abercromby's statement of the enormous tavern bills of the Commissioners of Bankrupts.
ALL IN THE FAMILY WAY.
A NEW PASTORAL BALLAD.
(SUNG IN THE CHARACTER OF BRITANNIA.)
"The Public Debt is due from ourselves to ourselves, and resolves itself into a Family Account."—Sir Robert Peel's Letter.
Tune—My banks are all furnisht with bees.