And the ostlers swear they’ll buy a rope and go to felo-de-se.
The steam boats to old Belzebub the watermen do wish,
For they say they’ve nearly ruined them and drowned all the fish,
Of all their new inventions that we have lately seen—
There was none begun or thought upon when Betty was the queen.
Behold the well-bred farmer, how he can strut along,
Let a poor man do whatever he will he’s always in the wrong,
With hard labour and low wages he hangs his drooping head,
They won’t allow him half enough to find his children bread.
The farmers’ daughters ride about well clad and pockets full,