This ballad, printed from the original broad-sheet in my possession, is another of the series to which I have alluded as being connected with the sale of Nun's Green, Derby. It is printed in two columns, with a wood-cut at its head representing a Highlander playing on the bag-pipes.
Good neighbours all, both great and small,
Of high and low degree;
Let's straight unite, ourselves to fight,
Against this presbytree.
If you'll but trace this hellish race,
Thro' every stage of life;
Where e'er they be you'll plainly see,
Nought but discord and strife.
If you'll history read your hearts will bleed,
To hear of their transactions;
For king and church have suffered much,
By their damn hellish factions.
Must we be opprest by this vile nest,
Who strives us to enslave;
Such is their spleen to sell Nun's Green,
The town to light and pave.
They do not care who the burden bear,
Such is their tyranny;
To enforce the tax on others' backs,
Whilst they themselves go free.
I wish all such Aldermen and folks like them,
Was forc'd to change their situation;
And that Greenland hulks for their vile bulks,
Might for ever be their station.
Proud oppulence with impudence,
As he struts along the streets;
Swears by his God with his iron rod,
He'll beat down all he meets.
There's shufling Charles both grins and snarles,
And where he can he'll bite;
For this last mishap he'll surely snap,
Except he's musseld tight.