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Literature & Theatre

Jenny Lind mania; or, The Swedish nightingale arrived at last

(23) Jenny Lind mania; or, The Swedish nightingale arrived at last

      The Jenny Lind Mania;

Or, the Swedish nightingale arrived at last.

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

OH ! is there not a pretty fuss
In London all around,
About the Swedish nightingale,
The talk of all the town,
Each square and street as through you
Aloud with praises ring,
About this pretty singing bird,
The famous Jenny Lind.


For she turns each heart, and turns each
Of those who hear her sing,
And she is turning all her notes to gold,
Is famous Jenny Lind.

All singers she outshines,
None can with her come nigh,
And some declare that she must be
An angel from the sky ;
She sings so sweet, and sings so loud,
As I've heard people say,
You might hear her from the Haymarket
As far as Botany Bay.

As to a liquor shop you go
To drink your wine or gin,
The landlord begs that you will taste
His famous Jenny Lind ;
And I heard a dustman t'other day,
As he his bell did ring,
Instead of bawling out, "dust O !"
Call'd out for Jenny Lind.

P — A — and our loving Queen,
Had such a precious row
Because he at the Opera House
To Jenny Lind did bow ;
She beat him round and round the house.
All with the rolling pin,
Till he said, my dear, I will not look,
Or wink at Jenny Lind.

Now every thing is Jenny Lind
That comes out now each day,
There is Jenny Lind shawls and bonnets
For those who cash can pay ;
Jenny Lind's coats and waistcoats,
Shirts, whiskers too, and stocks,
Jenny Lind's gowns and petticoats,
And bustles such a lot

If to a butcher's shop you go
To buy a joint of meat,
It's buy, oh ! buy my Jenny Lind,
She's tender and she's sweet ;
And the greasy little butcher's boys,
Sing with a knowing grin,
Eightpence a pound, this splendid leg,
It is fit for Jenny Lind.

The gents smoke nought but Jenny Lind
For so they name cigars,
And shopboys they to come out slap,
Smoke Jenny Lind by halves ;
And ladies who a shoping go,
To the mercer's will drop in,
And ask for a yard and a half of silk,
Cut off of Jenny Lind.

Now to conclude and end my song,
For I think it is almost time,
Success to the little singing bird,
The subject of my rhymes ;
I have seen some wonders in my time,
And singing birds some scores,
I never knew a singing bird,
ear petticoats before.

Printer, 2, & 3, Monmouth-court,
                      7 Dials.

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