John Frost in Wales a hunting went, and well knew how to ride
He had a fine bred Chartist horse, but got on the wrong side,
If he had held the reins quite firm in his own hand,
They’d ne’er have hunted him into Van Diemans Land.
The Queen she went a hunting thro’ Scotland and France,
She hunted foreign countries through to learn the Polka dance;
Bobby Peel, he’s a huntsman bold, was never known to fail,
He hunted up the Income Tax, and then the Corn Law Bill.
They’re hunting up the poor man, he’s hunted every day,
And hawkers too, if they do not a heavy licence pay.
They won’t allow the poor to beg, it is a crime to steal,
For the one there’s the Union, for the other there’s the gaol.
So to conclude my hunting song, I hope you’ll all agree
While the poor are starved and hunted down, the rich will have their spree.
To complain is quite a crime, for poor you’re to remain,
The Parson says, if you’re content, Heaven you’re sure to gain.
THE WONDERFUL WONDERS OF TOWN.[64]
Good neighbours, pray listen—nay do but come round,
I’ve a tale that shall puzzle your heads I’ll be bound;
From London I’ve ’scap’d pretty glad to get down,
And tell you the wonderful wonders of town.
The streets ’luminated I walked every night,
And the devil a bit could I see for the light;
Such pictures, lamps, feathers, stars, anchors, and jokes,
With Boney, the devil, and all sorts of volks.
Lords, pickpockets, ladies, lamplighters, girls, boys,
I didn’t think Peace could have made such a noise.
Push’d, bump’d, lump’d, and thump’d, when I tried to retire,
I was out of the frying pan into the fire.
Then the Emperor’s fist was at every one’s call,
Till princes and kings went for nothing at all;
And, English good manners to show so polite,
We pulled ’em and hauled ’em, from morning till night.
Then the Cossack Horse Soldiers as fought with our foes,
We kill’d ’em with kindness, as all the world knows,
And gave ’em such welcome and hearty good cheer,
They’d no time to get shav’d all the time they were here.