Skip to main content


Striking times

(7) Striking times


[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

CHEER up ! cheer up ! you sons of toil &
listen to my song,
While I try to amuse you and I will not keep
you long,
The working men of England, at length be-
gin to see
They've made a bold strike for their rights
in eighteen fifty-three.


It is high time that Working men, should
have it their own way,
And for a fair days labour receive a fair
day's pay.

This is the time for striking at least it strikes
me so,
Monopoly has had some knocks, but this
must be the blow,
For Working men by thousands, complain
their fate is hard,
May order mark their conduct, and success
be their reward.

Some of our London Printers, this glorious
work began,
And surely they done something, for they've
upset the sun,
Employers, must be made to see they can't
do what they like,                  (to strike.
It is the masters greediness, causes the men

The labouring men of London on both sides
of the Thames,
They made a strike last Monday which adds
much to their fame,
Their masters did not relish it, but they
made them understand,
Before the next day's sun had set, they gave
them their demand.

The unflinching men of Stockport, with
Kidderminster in their train,
Three hundred honest weavers have struck
their ends to gain,
Tho' the masters find they are losing deal,
the tide must soon be turning,
They find that men wont quietly, be robbed
of half their earnings.

Our London Weavers mean to show their
masters and the trade,
That they'll either cease to work, or else be
better paid,
'Twas in Spitalfie'ds the weavers workd with
joy in former ages, (scale of wages,
But they're tired out of asking, for a better

The monied men have had their way, large
fortunes they have made,
For things could not be otherwise, with la-
bour badly paid,
They roll along with splendour, and with a
saucey tone,
As Cobbett says, they eat the meat, while
the workmen gnaws the bone.

The slop-sellers & tailors had an ugly dream
The needle-women swear they'll strike be-
fore they sew a seam.
But as they make all our trousers before the
evil comes,           [shall show our bums
We had better give them all they ask, or we

In Liverpool, the Postmen struck and sent
word to their betters,
Begging them to recollect that they were
men of letters ;
They asked for three bob more a week, and
got it in a crack
And though each man has get his bag, they
have not got the sack.

The cabmen and their masters made up their
minds last week,
To stop the Cabs from running, now was not
that a treat :                (very bitter pill,
The Hackney Carriage Act has proved a
It was no use to call ont Cab, Cab, drive
fast and show your skill.

The Coopers and the Lock-yard men are
all a going to strike
And soon there will be the devil to pay with
out a little mike
The farming men of Suffolk have lately
call'd ago
And swear they'll have their wages rose be-
fore they reap er mow

E. Hodges, Printer, &c
Seven Dials London

Images and transcriptions on this page, including medium image downloads, may be used under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence unless otherwise stated. Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International Licence