D-v-nsh-re.
A TOWN MOUSE.
Jones. "Well, my little Man, what are you thinking about?"
London Boy (who has never been out of Whitechapel before). "I'm thinkin' it's time yer Mother put yer into Trousers!"
LOWERED!
Rates, rates, rates, Of an exigent L. C. C.! And I'm glad they can't hear the language We utter so frequentlee!
O well for the excellent Chairman For trying to reduce them a bit! O well for those Councillors wary Who on costly "improvements" sit!
And "demand-notes" still go on, And our pockets are steadily bled; But "O (we oft sigh) for a tenpenny rate, And the sins of a 'Board' that is dead!"