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Street orderly

(26) Street orderly

            STREET ORDERLY.

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

E. HODGES, Printer, (from PITTS) whole-
sale Toy and Marble warehouse, 31 Dudley-
Street, Seven Dials.


Come o'er the moonlit sea,
Where the waves are brightly glowing,
The wind has sunk to its cve ing rest,
And the tide is gen ly flowing.
Though bright the morn may beam, love,
Along the smiling sea,
Yet dearer still to me love,
Are moonlit waves with thee.
                                                Then come, &c.

All is still save the echoed song
Of Italia's bright-eved daughter,
Or the distant sound of he boatman's oar,
As it dips in the sparkling water.
                                                 Then come, & c.

           STREET ORDERLY.

             Air—Nancy Dawson.

I AM a street orderly as you may all see,
You'd like to know perhaps who I be,
If you will listen, awhile I will patter,
And tell you all about the matter.
I came from the country almost de d,
I went to ask Charles Cochrane for bread,
He gave me bread and soup accoraingly,
And invited me to become a street orderly.


Now don't make game of me as you pass,
You don't know what you may come to at last,
You must neither beg, steal nor stoop,
So I'm a knight of the broom and get plenty
of soup.

Charles Cochrane has, though its not stated,
Fed the poor, and clothed the naked,
And to public washouses his maxim been,
For man, woman, and child to be clean.
Lo k at me, and speak true on,
I'm be ter off than in a union,
Where Druet s arved them as quick as tl under,
But Cochrane's band 's a mighty wonder.
                              Now dont make game of, &c.

We are fed and clothed as clean as a smelt,
While the paupers go with hunger bent,
The guardians they have qui e can less grown,
If you ask for b ead they give you a stone.
A poor man now no work enjoys,
For 'tis a l done by girls and boys,
What are we to do to keep from the union door,
Why every parish should employ their own poor.
                              Now don't make game of, &c.

Englishmen's freedom is flew away from us,
The foreigners now are all living upon us,
Louis, Phillipe and his family came here for pro-
And the Poles and refugees have their yearly
Now Cochrane is the man to speak for the
The aristocracy are the blades to rifle and plund r
a man,
Let the Queen di charge Russell, he's too lit le
for anything,
And bring in Charles Cochrane, the poor man's
                              Now dont make game of, &c.

If Cochrane was to get in the Commons, no matter
on Monday,
He would not allow Rowland Hill to sort letters
on a Sunday,
The poor man he would work six days only,
The seventh a day of rest to be kept boly.
Here's a health to Charles Cockrane, fill your
glasses to the brim,
And the ladies that support him, may they never
want a thing,
May his name last for ever, and never change its
So do unto others as you would they should dp
unto you.
                              Now dont make game of, &c.

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