Royalty

       The Queen, the Pope,

                    AND THE

         PARLIAMENT

My lords and my gentlemen all,
he bishops and great house of commons
On you for protection I call,
For you know I am only a woman,
I am really quite happy indeed—
To meet you like birds of a feather,
So I hope you will all struggle with me,
And pull away boys alltogether,
My name is Victoria the Queen

Since we parted a rumpus has been,
Which did all the country surprise then,
Though he is here sirs, I have him not seen
I mean the old Cardinal Wiseman,
What business had he to come here
With his be ds & his soft mottled soap sirs
I would rather be laid in the tomb,
Than laid under old Pi s the Pope, sirs,
Here's the Church and Britannia, huzzah,

Our bishops and deans did relent,
And say they for ever was undone,
Bishop Philpott along challenge sent
To his lordship the bishop of London,
To fight him on Hounslow Heath—
But the bishop of London was coosey,
He gave him one slap in the mouth,
And then sent a letter to pusey,
No humbuggery stories for vick—

Now my lords and my gentlemen all,
Go to work the first part of the sessions,
I want none of your cardinal hats
Or going to Priests for confession,
Take notice of what I have said
Georgy Grey and little Jack Russell
Or I swear by the crown on my head,
I will knock out your Brains with my bustle
By fools I will never be beat.

I heard my old grandfather say
His great grandmother easily loved reckon
When they made a fool run away,
Whose name was King Jemmy the second

Billy gave him a ticket for soup,
Though Bill married old Jemmy's daughter
He knocked him from old Palace yard,
To Ireland, across the Boyne water,
Long life to Victoria the Queen.

Come here my old friend Joey Hume,
I know you in silence wont mope now,
Go up and get inside the moon
And make fast a great torry rope now,
And then give a spring and a jump
And you to a peerage shall rise then,
For we'll swing up old Pius the Pope
And his eminence cardinal Wiseman,
Old England and down with the Pope.

Now my friends go at it like bricks,
And your P's and Q's mind all the sessions
It is the command of Queen Vick,
That you soon settle the popish question,
Send popery over to Rome—
And flare them away lads like flinders,
And when you have conquered the pope
Just knock off the Tax off the windows,
And let us haye plenty of light.

Now my lords and commoners too,
You seem in a right good condition,
Your country's rights to maintain
And visit the Great Exhibition,
Old nosey my dear loving friend
Get your cannon ball, powder & soap now
Sponge out your old rusty gun.
And just take a shot at the pope now,
And send him to Balleynamuck,

So my lords, dukes and gentlemen all,
I wish you good luck through the session,
Send all the pope's servants to Roam
With their last dying speech & confession
It is evident old Farmer Bull
Is not at all in a position—
To entertain any old pope
At the National Exhibition
Hurrah for the Church and the Queen.

C Paul, Printer, 18, Great St Andrew Street, Seven Dials