Post office Sunday trading
POST OFFICE SUNDAY TRADING.
[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]
BIRT, Printer, 39. Great St Andrew Street,
Seven Dials. London.
IF there is not a jolly row,
I think it is a pity,
With all the swells you know who dwells
Both in and out the City ;
Because they say there's some who has
Being going on a rum way,
The Post Office authorities
Will have to work on Sunday.
The Carriers, Clerks, and Sotters say,
Sad is our situation,
Compelled to work the Sabbath day,
Through these new regulations.
No time they'll Fave to go to Church,
Or to their friends be carried,
No time to sing, to eat or drink,
Or going to be married ;
For they must be as you may see,
The letters get for Monday ;
As hard as Turks they ll have to work,
Good lack a day on Sunday !
Additional men, as I will pen,
They'll have oh ! what a bustle !
Some laid the blame on Georgy Grey,
And some on Johnny Russell ;
The great Lord Mayor did loud declare,
And holloa'd in a rum way,
'There was great blame, and 'twasa shame
To make folks work on Sunday,'
Because for years as plain appears,
There has been so degrading,
Such jolly rows and flaring up
About the Sunday trading ;
If a lollipop was sold between
The Saturday and Monday,
They pull'd folk up and fined them well,
For dealing on the Sunday.
They said the Bakers should not bake,
And no one should be gluttons,
They said that Barbers should not shave,
O the Butchers sell their mutton ;
I know a Snob, who had a job,
And who got fined a rum way,
Cause his old woman's bustle split,
And he stitched it up on Sunday.
The Post Office authorities,
Since they have all has warning,
To their places flock at five o'clock;
On every Sunday morning,
Do run and sweat, complain and fret,
And grumble in a rum way,
And curse the lot who did prepose
To make them work on Sunday.
There is always something starting up,
Some funny thing they up poke,
But seldom anything occurs,
To benefit the poor folks ;
The country letters they will be
Delivered soon on Monday,
And so the men will have you see,
To go to work on Sunday.
As by the Post Office I went,
I saw some rummy fellows,
Some looked blue, and some looked brown
And some looked pale and yellow ;
They said, "they was completely licked
And should not live till Monday ;
If they were bound to run and sweat,
And work all day on Sundays."
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|English ballads > Occupations > Post office Sunday trading|
|Description||First line reads: If there is not a jolly row. In two columns with a woodcut above the first.|
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