Where we may be admitted, and not taken in as well,
As we were by our old Innkeeper, one of the fleecing time.
THE STARVED-OUT COMMISSION OF SEWERS.
Everybody is attacking the unfortunate Commissioners of Sewers, who are said to be standing still with their hands in their pockets, and who reply that they are obliged to stand still because they have nothing in their pockets but their hands. It is true their hands seem to get very deeply into the public pocket occasionally, but however large the sum that may be extracted, the cry of the Commissioners is "We have no funds." If a neighbourhood, thirsty for a good, wholesome fall of water, applies to the Commissioners, their answer is "We can't stand a dram." Their song is always to one tune, and that is the tune of "I've no Money."
I've no money! so you see
Nothing can be done by me;
I own it to my sorrow;
But if I were rich, you'd see
Wonders would be done by me;