Men, women, and children, come list to my story—
The ports are thrown open, your bellies may glory;
Provisions must drop now, to satisfy many,
Who long before this time could scarcely get any;
For bread’s been so dear it was hard to be gotten,
Potatoes so scarce, and one half of them rotten,
These hard times I fear will ne’er be forgotten;
But now wag your jaws, lad, the ports are thrown open.
CHORUS.