All excisemen and dissenters,
Holy fasts and holy feasts, sir,
Whigs and Jews and ten-pound renters!
Sing the days, etc.
When our fiddlers were true artists,
And our singers all had voices:
Ere our labourers were Chartists,
And the land was full of noises.
When our “bloods” were breaking knockers,
Smashing bells all free and hearty,