STATE OF

            Great Britain.

BIRT, Printer, 39, Great St. Andrew Street
                      Seven Dials.

As old John Bull was walking one morning free
from pain,                              [to complain,
He heard the rose, the shamrock, and the thistle
An alteration must take place together the" did
sing,                                   (another thing,
In the Corn Laws and Poor Laws and many
Conversing on the present times together they did
range,                                            (strange,
All classes thro' Great Britain now appears very
That England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, does.
sadly want a change.
The railroads thro' England have great depression
made,                                               (trade,
Machinery of every kind has nearly slopped the
The innkeepers are weeping with grief and agony,
And ostlers swear they'll buy a rope and go to
felo-de-see.

The steam-boats to old Belzebub the watermen do
wish,                                        (all the fish,
For they say they've nearly ruined them & drowned
Of all the new inventions that we have lately seen,
There was none begun or thought upon when
Betty was the Queen.
Behold the well-fed farmer-how he can strut along,
Let a poor man do whate'er he will he's always in
the wrong,                         (drooping head,
With hard labour and low wages he hangs his
They wont allow him half enough to find his
children bread.

The farmers daughters ride about well clad and
pockets full,                                   (a bull,
With horse and saddle like a queen and boa like. .
In their hands a flashy parasol and on their face
a veil,                                           (ing pail.
And a bustle nearly seven times as big as a milk-
The nobles from the pockets of John Bull are all
well paid,                            (servant maid,
Somntimes you hardly know the lady from the
For now they are so very proud, silk stockings on
their legs,                              (pigeon eggs.
And ev'ry step they take you think they walk on
The tradesman he can hardly pay his rent and
keep a home,                    (breaking stone ;
And the labourer has thirteenpence a day for
The farmer used to ride upon a pony or a mule,
There never was such times as these since Adam
went to school.                                 

Some can live in luxury while others weep in woe,
There's a very pretty difference now & a century ago
The world will shortly move by steam, it may
appear strange,                          (a change.
So you must all acknowledge old, England wants.

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      A LOWLY YOUTH

BIRT, Printer 39, Great St. Andrew Street,
                      Seven Dials.

A lowly youth, the mountain child,
Within his heart a love conceal'd,
Whose depth, with acceuts sweet and
wild,
To echo only he revealed.
Ah ! if you now, he would repeat,
How fair she is, how true, how fund,
But echo, faithful and discreet,
The name he breath'd would not re-
spond.

His secret having thus possess'd,
She priz'd so much its charmed tone,
That echo, strange to say, confess'd
Instead of his deep love her own.
That voice so tender and so sweet,
Was Iter's who worshipp'd at his
shrine.
And which would day and night repeat,,
My heart is fond and true as, thine.

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