Politics & government

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JEM PAULL's ADDRESS

                   TO HIS

      CONSTITUENTS;

                      OR,

An Excellent New Song

                      ON

The Westminster Election.

          TUNE—The Storm.

CEASE, Sir SAMUEL, gallant Sailor!
Be thy Patriot voice unknown !
Tradesmen, hear a Brother Tailor
Speak of virtues all his own.---
First I on the shopboard seated,
Preach'd to Journeymen a score ;
In the COMMONS then repeated
All the Snips had heard before !

In my youth I sail'd for India ;
Trade and wealth began to dawn,
Trowsers there I made for SCINDEAH,
Cotton Draw'rs for ALI KHAN !
Fame I wish'd---content with riches--
Soon that fell within my reach---
As I mended once the breeches
Of the man I now IMPEACH !

What, though some malignant railer,
Ask with rage and eager hate,
How a journey-working Tailor
Knew the Secrets of the State ?
How that I, to stop their vapours,
(Which I value not a LOUSE,)
Pick'd the pockets of the Papers,
I presented to the HOUSE ?

What, tho' all my humming, hawing,
Ne'er was understood by half,
All my chatt'ring, all my jawing,
Only made the COMMONS laugh,
Since each Briton, stout and hearty,
Treats me with neglect and scorn,
Soon I join'd with BONAPARTE,
BURDETT, JONES, and Parson HORNE.

Working on St. Stephen's benches.---
Every Minister shall be,
Who upon the Mob entrenches,
Speedily sewn up by me !
Then shall BONEY, my befriender,---
(Well to him my worth is known)---
High in state and regal splendour,
Mount me cross-legg'd on the throne.

Thou who hast a fellow feeling---
Thou who lov'st not to be free---
Thou who liv'st by lies and stealing---
If there be one---vote for me!
Choose---it will be better for thee,
Next yourself may stand and try ;
None so poor or so unworthy,
But are just as fit as I.