THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER'S LAMENT.
Upon my vord and honour I never know'd sich times,
The climbing-boys must emigrate, and go to other climes;
The Lords and Kemmins, and the Kveen—yes, she, and all, alas!
Has pass'd an act, the vich I call a werry pretty pass:
They've akshually made a law, vich says, or else implies,
Henceforth, in his purfession, no chimney-sweep shall rise.
They've closed agin us all the chimneys—isn't it a shame?
How would the politicians like all to be sarved the same?
Because if all the dirty vays of rising should be barr'd,