And Sundays only show the Sunday clothes!
The magistrates decree that “fair is foul,”
And put a stop to profitable sport;
They exercise the Lion’s shilling howl,
And cut the Irish giant’s income short.
No more the backy-box, in dark japan,
Shakes on the stick, and lures the rabble rout;
No more the lemon, balanced by the man,
Flies at the touch and flings its toys about;
Take warning then, ye fair! from this fair’s fall!