They've got Humane Societies for everything but sweeps
Mayhap because the soot upon our faces does perwail,
Society believes that we are not within its pale;
But never mind, I'll emigrate, and then I'll live at ease,
Though chimneys I'm forbid to sweep, at least I'll sweep the seas;
And of the natives to make friends I'll do my best to try,
But if they run, vot then?—I'm used to see blacks fly.
Or else to China I vill go, indeed I do not joke,
To stop the trade in opium, by curing all the smoke.
'Tis true I love my native land; but then, agin, you see,