Chorus.

Britannia’ssons an attentive earOne moment lend to me,Whether tillers of our fruitful soil,Or lords of high degree.Mechanic too, and artizan,Old England’s pride and boast,Whose wondrous skill has spread around,Far, far from Britain’s coast.

For the World’s great Exhibition,Let’s shout with loud huzza,All nations never can forget,The glorious first of May.From every quarter of the Globe,They come across the sea,And to the Chrystal PalaceThe wonders for to see;Raised by the handiwork of menBorn on British ground,A challenge to the UniverseIt’s equal to be found.Each friendly nation in the world,Have their assistance lent,And to this ExhibitionHave their productions sent.And with honest zeal and ardour,With pleasure do repair,With hands outstretch’d, and gait erect,To the World’s Great National Fair.The Sons of England and FranceAnd America likewise,With other nations to contend,To bear away the prize.With pride depicted in their eyes,View the offspring of their hand,O, surely England’s greatest wealth,Is an honest working man.It is a glorious sight to seeSo many thousands meet,Not heeding creed or country,Each other friendly greet.Like children of one mighty sire,May that sacred tie ne’er cease,May the blood stain’d sword of War give wayTo the Olive branch of Peace.But hark! the trumpets flourish,Victoria does approach,That she may long be spared to usShall be our reigning toast.I trust each heart, it will respond,To what I now propose—Good will and plenty to her friends,And confusion to her foes.Great praise is due to Albert,For the good that he has done,May others follow in his stepsThe work he has begun;Then let us all, with one accord,His name give with three cheers,Shout huzza for the Chrystal Palace,And the World’s great National Fair!!

For the World’s great Exhibition,Let’s shout with loud huzza,All nations never can forget,The glorious first of May.

From every quarter of the Globe,They come across the sea,And to the Chrystal PalaceThe wonders for to see;Raised by the handiwork of menBorn on British ground,A challenge to the UniverseIt’s equal to be found.

Each friendly nation in the world,Have their assistance lent,And to this ExhibitionHave their productions sent.And with honest zeal and ardour,With pleasure do repair,With hands outstretch’d, and gait erect,To the World’s Great National Fair.

The Sons of England and FranceAnd America likewise,With other nations to contend,To bear away the prize.With pride depicted in their eyes,View the offspring of their hand,O, surely England’s greatest wealth,Is an honest working man.

It is a glorious sight to seeSo many thousands meet,Not heeding creed or country,Each other friendly greet.Like children of one mighty sire,May that sacred tie ne’er cease,May the blood stain’d sword of War give wayTo the Olive branch of Peace.

But hark! the trumpets flourish,Victoria does approach,That she may long be spared to usShall be our reigning toast.I trust each heart, it will respond,To what I now propose—Good will and plenty to her friends,And confusion to her foes.

Great praise is due to Albert,For the good that he has done,May others follow in his stepsThe work he has begun;Then let us all, with one accord,His name give with three cheers,Shout huzza for the Chrystal Palace,And the World’s great National Fair!!

Youbonny pretty English Girls—Your Mammas I am going to harrass,What a lark I lately have had,Among the young bucks of Paris.A son and daughter I shall have,As fine as ever were seen-y,The boy shall Napoleon be called,And the little girl nam’d Eugenie.

I’ve been to France to learn to dance,With Frenchmen we were mingling,Now Vic and Albert have returnedOnce more to bonny England.From Osborne boldly we set sail,Our hearts did beat in motion,The wind it blew a pleasant gale,And glorious looked the ocean.And when we landed at Boulogne,Napoleon loud did roar, there,Three times he kiss’d me on the cheek,Then sang “God bless Victoria.”The guns did fire, the bells did ring,The cannon balls did rattle,Young men and maids did sweetly sing,Then the soldiers had a battle.The snips and snobs, so help my bobs,Were mounted on French ponies,Me and Albert had a fracasee,Then a stumping Macaroni.There were blazing lights all through the night,The doors broke off their hinges,When all the pretty maiden’s kneesWere covered over with fringes.The men had all got hairy lips,Then whistled sweet marblue, Sirs,They cheered me gaily all the way,Then halloed Parley Vous, Sirs.The Frenchmen used me very well,And shewed me sights and wondersMy Albert, he was frightened, and,Eugenie’s bed crept under;I thought with her he was in love,I thought he did adore her,I thought that he had run away,And left his own Victoria.Well, now we’ve had a grand flare up,The like was seen not never,The kind French folk did laugh and joke,With “Anglais for ever.”The sights I’ve seen, believe your Queen,So sweetly did delight her,She went to France to learn to dance,And Bull must pay the piper.

I’ve been to France to learn to dance,With Frenchmen we were mingling,Now Vic and Albert have returnedOnce more to bonny England.

From Osborne boldly we set sail,Our hearts did beat in motion,The wind it blew a pleasant gale,And glorious looked the ocean.And when we landed at Boulogne,Napoleon loud did roar, there,Three times he kiss’d me on the cheek,Then sang “God bless Victoria.”

The guns did fire, the bells did ring,The cannon balls did rattle,Young men and maids did sweetly sing,Then the soldiers had a battle.The snips and snobs, so help my bobs,Were mounted on French ponies,Me and Albert had a fracasee,Then a stumping Macaroni.

There were blazing lights all through the night,The doors broke off their hinges,When all the pretty maiden’s kneesWere covered over with fringes.The men had all got hairy lips,Then whistled sweet marblue, Sirs,They cheered me gaily all the way,Then halloed Parley Vous, Sirs.

The Frenchmen used me very well,And shewed me sights and wondersMy Albert, he was frightened, and,Eugenie’s bed crept under;I thought with her he was in love,I thought he did adore her,I thought that he had run away,And left his own Victoria.

Well, now we’ve had a grand flare up,The like was seen not never,The kind French folk did laugh and joke,With “Anglais for ever.”The sights I’ve seen, believe your Queen,So sweetly did delight her,She went to France to learn to dance,And Bull must pay the piper.

Goodpeople give attention, and listen for a while,To an interesting ditty, which cannot fail to make you smile,So all draw near, and lend an ear, while I relate a theme,Concerning of Victoria, a strange and funny dream.

So these are dreams and visionsOf old England’s blooming Queen.At the Isle of Wight, the other night, as Vic lay in her bed,Strange visions did to her appear, and dreams came in her head;She drew Prince Albert by the nose, and gave a dreadful scream,Oh, dear, she said, I’m filled with dread, I’d such a dreadful dream.Says Albert, Vic, what are you at? you’ve made my nose quite sore,I’m in a mind, for half a pin, to kick you on the floor,Such dreams for me will never do, you pepper’d me with blows.I never knew a wife to dream, and pull her husband’s nose.O, don’t be vex’d, the Queen replied, you know I love you well,So listen awhile dear Albert, and my dreams to you I’ll tell:Last night, she said, I had a dream, as soon as I lay down,I thought Napoleon had come o’er, to steal away my crown.The vision of Napoleon appeared at my bed side,He said that by my subjects he had been greatly belied,But now, said he, I’ll be revenged, I’ll quickly make you rue,And I’ll take away the laurels that were won at Waterloo.When the vision of Napoleon, from my view did disappear,To escape the French, I thought that we came to lodge here,I thought that we were so held down, by cursed poverty,That I was forc’d to labour hard in a cotton factory.Prince Albert, he stood quite amazed, and listened to the Queen,And said, dear Vic, I little thought that you had such a dream,Cheer up your heart, don’t look so sad, you need not be afraid,For I’m sure the French will ne’er attempt, Old England to invade.The Queen to Albert then replied, I have not told you all,For I dream’t that Lord John Russell, altho’ but very small,Just like a Briton bold, then so nobly did advance,And with his fist, knocked out the eye, of the Emperor of France.I dreamed that I was weaving on a pair of patent looms,And I thought that you were going through the streets a-selling brooms,And I thought our blooming Prince of Wales was selling milk and cream,But, Albert dear, when I awoke, it was nothing but a dream.Indeed, said Albert, dream no more, you fill my heart with pain,And I hope that you will never have such frightful dreams again,We’ve English and Irish soldiers, we can conquer all our foes,So, whenever you dream again Vic, pray don’t you pull my nose.

So these are dreams and visionsOf old England’s blooming Queen.

At the Isle of Wight, the other night, as Vic lay in her bed,Strange visions did to her appear, and dreams came in her head;She drew Prince Albert by the nose, and gave a dreadful scream,Oh, dear, she said, I’m filled with dread, I’d such a dreadful dream.

Says Albert, Vic, what are you at? you’ve made my nose quite sore,I’m in a mind, for half a pin, to kick you on the floor,Such dreams for me will never do, you pepper’d me with blows.I never knew a wife to dream, and pull her husband’s nose.

O, don’t be vex’d, the Queen replied, you know I love you well,So listen awhile dear Albert, and my dreams to you I’ll tell:Last night, she said, I had a dream, as soon as I lay down,I thought Napoleon had come o’er, to steal away my crown.

The vision of Napoleon appeared at my bed side,He said that by my subjects he had been greatly belied,But now, said he, I’ll be revenged, I’ll quickly make you rue,And I’ll take away the laurels that were won at Waterloo.

When the vision of Napoleon, from my view did disappear,To escape the French, I thought that we came to lodge here,I thought that we were so held down, by cursed poverty,That I was forc’d to labour hard in a cotton factory.

Prince Albert, he stood quite amazed, and listened to the Queen,And said, dear Vic, I little thought that you had such a dream,Cheer up your heart, don’t look so sad, you need not be afraid,For I’m sure the French will ne’er attempt, Old England to invade.

The Queen to Albert then replied, I have not told you all,For I dream’t that Lord John Russell, altho’ but very small,Just like a Briton bold, then so nobly did advance,And with his fist, knocked out the eye, of the Emperor of France.

I dreamed that I was weaving on a pair of patent looms,And I thought that you were going through the streets a-selling brooms,And I thought our blooming Prince of Wales was selling milk and cream,But, Albert dear, when I awoke, it was nothing but a dream.

Indeed, said Albert, dream no more, you fill my heart with pain,And I hope that you will never have such frightful dreams again,We’ve English and Irish soldiers, we can conquer all our foes,So, whenever you dream again Vic, pray don’t you pull my nose.

TheTurkish War, both near and far,Has played the very deuce then,And littleAl, the royal pal,They say, he has turned a Russian;Old Aberdeen, as may be seen,Looks woeful pale and yellow,And Old John Bull has his belly fullOf dirty Russian Tallow.

We’ll send him home and make him groan,Oh,Al, you’ve played the deuce then,The German lad has acted sad,And turned tail with the Russian.WhenAlcame here, you’re all aware,He brought with him no riches,He had scarce a rag upon his back,And great holes in his breeches;Oh, England on him pity took,And chang’d his sad condition,And soon he plann’d, you understand,The National Exhibition.The Cobourgs came from far and near,With their Dispatches, all dirt,A begging for the Russian Bear,To blooming lovely Albert,To keep old Nick, the devil’s limb,And on to Turkey lead him,To massacre the innocent Turks,And rob them of their freedom.Last Monday night, all in a fright,Al, out of bed did tumble,The German lad was raving mad,How he did groan and grumble!He cried to Vic, I’ll cut my stick,To Petersburgh, go right slap,When Vic, ’tis said, jumped out of bed,And whopp’d him with her night cap.There, with the bolster round the room,Vic gave him dreadful lashes,She scratched his face and broke his nose,And pull’d out his moustaches.You German dog, you shall be flogg’d,She halloed like a Prussian,How could you dare to interfereAnd turn a cursed Russian?Bad luck they say, both night and day,To the Cobugs and all humbugs,The Wirtembugs and Scarem bugs,And all the German house bugs.And the old bug of Aberdeen,The Peterbugs and Prussians,May Providence protect the Turks,And massacre the Russians.You jolly Turks, now go to work,And show the Bear your power—It’s rumoured over Britain’s isle,That A—— is in the Tower,The Postmen some suspicion had,And openéd two letters,’Twas pity sad, the German lad,Should not have known much better.Well, now, my friends, to made an end,From tyrants guard your own coast,I’ll tell you what ’tween you and I,The Tower-ditch and the gate post:I think thatAlhas been used well,Since first he came to England,And had no cause to obstruct the laws,Or in politics be mingling.Let France and England set to work,Shun Austrians and Prussians,Assist the poor and injured Turks,And smother all the Russians.Chain up the Bear, and make him stare,And so I take my Davy,We’ll sing Old England, three times three,The Army and the Navy.

We’ll send him home and make him groan,Oh,Al, you’ve played the deuce then,The German lad has acted sad,And turned tail with the Russian.

WhenAlcame here, you’re all aware,He brought with him no riches,He had scarce a rag upon his back,And great holes in his breeches;Oh, England on him pity took,And chang’d his sad condition,And soon he plann’d, you understand,The National Exhibition.

The Cobourgs came from far and near,With their Dispatches, all dirt,A begging for the Russian Bear,To blooming lovely Albert,To keep old Nick, the devil’s limb,And on to Turkey lead him,To massacre the innocent Turks,And rob them of their freedom.

Last Monday night, all in a fright,Al, out of bed did tumble,The German lad was raving mad,How he did groan and grumble!He cried to Vic, I’ll cut my stick,To Petersburgh, go right slap,When Vic, ’tis said, jumped out of bed,And whopp’d him with her night cap.

There, with the bolster round the room,Vic gave him dreadful lashes,She scratched his face and broke his nose,And pull’d out his moustaches.You German dog, you shall be flogg’d,She halloed like a Prussian,How could you dare to interfereAnd turn a cursed Russian?

Bad luck they say, both night and day,To the Cobugs and all humbugs,The Wirtembugs and Scarem bugs,And all the German house bugs.And the old bug of Aberdeen,The Peterbugs and Prussians,May Providence protect the Turks,And massacre the Russians.

You jolly Turks, now go to work,And show the Bear your power—It’s rumoured over Britain’s isle,That A—— is in the Tower,The Postmen some suspicion had,And openéd two letters,’Twas pity sad, the German lad,Should not have known much better.

Well, now, my friends, to made an end,From tyrants guard your own coast,I’ll tell you what ’tween you and I,The Tower-ditch and the gate post:I think thatAlhas been used well,Since first he came to England,And had no cause to obstruct the laws,Or in politics be mingling.

Let France and England set to work,Shun Austrians and Prussians,Assist the poor and injured Turks,And smother all the Russians.Chain up the Bear, and make him stare,And so I take my Davy,We’ll sing Old England, three times three,The Army and the Navy.

I tell theeAl, we never shall,Although you play’d the deuce then,Allow the Turks to be run down,By the dirty, greasy Russian.

Thetwenty-first day of October,It being a glorious day,The combin’d fleets of Spain and France,They met at Buzeray.Their number it being thirty three,Bertram chanced them to see.There is twenty seven of them for me,Said brave Nelson.We form’d a line of battle,Our cannons loud did roar,Some we sent into the air,And others down below.But Nelson on the deck so high,Aloud unto his men did cry,This day we conquer or we die,Said brave Nelson.On the twenty first of October,At the rising of the sun,We form’d the line for action,At twelve o’clock begun.We manned our rigging and shot away,Besides some thousands on that day,Were killed and wounded in the ’fray,With brave Nelson.Our ship was numbered twenty seven,Her cannon loud did roar,We ships, in number twenty seven,Took from the Spanish shore.But when we’d victory on our side,A musket ball his life destroyed,And in the midst of glory died,Our brave Nelson.To view this hero dying,With his last parting breath,He prayed for England’s glory,At the moment of his death.Farewell my lads, my glass is run,This day will be my setting sun,And providence it must be done,Said brave Nelson.Fare you well brave Nelson,Old England shed a tear,The bravest of her heroes,Has lost his life so dear.Did he not merit much applause,He fought for liberty and laws,He bled and died for England’s causeThe brave Nelson.

We form’d a line of battle,Our cannons loud did roar,Some we sent into the air,And others down below.But Nelson on the deck so high,Aloud unto his men did cry,This day we conquer or we die,Said brave Nelson.

On the twenty first of October,At the rising of the sun,We form’d the line for action,At twelve o’clock begun.We manned our rigging and shot away,Besides some thousands on that day,Were killed and wounded in the ’fray,With brave Nelson.

Our ship was numbered twenty seven,Her cannon loud did roar,We ships, in number twenty seven,Took from the Spanish shore.But when we’d victory on our side,A musket ball his life destroyed,And in the midst of glory died,Our brave Nelson.

To view this hero dying,With his last parting breath,He prayed for England’s glory,At the moment of his death.Farewell my lads, my glass is run,This day will be my setting sun,And providence it must be done,Said brave Nelson.

Fare you well brave Nelson,Old England shed a tear,The bravest of her heroes,Has lost his life so dear.Did he not merit much applause,He fought for liberty and laws,He bled and died for England’s causeThe brave Nelson.

Comeall gallant seamen that unite a meeting,Attend to these lines that I’m going to relate,And, when that you hear, it will move you with pity,To hear how Lord Nelson, he met with his fate.For he was a bold and undaunted commander,As ever did sail on the ocean wide,And he made both the French and the Spaniards surrender,By always pouring into them a broadside.

Mourn, England, mourn; mourn and complain,For the loss of Lord Nelson, who died on the main.From aloft, to aloft, where he was commanding,All by a French gun he received a ball,And, by the contents, he got mortally wounded,And that was the occasion of Lord Nelson’s fall.Like an undaunted hero, exposed to the fire,As he gave the command, on the quarter deck stood,And to hear of his actions, you would much admire,To see the decks covered all with human blood.One hundred engagements he had been into,And never, in his time, was he known to be beat,For he had lost an arm, likewise his right eye, sir,No powers on earth could ever him defeat.His age, at his death, it was forty and seven,And as long as I live, his great praises, I’ll sing,For the whole navigation was given unto him,Because he was loyal and true to his king.Then up steps the doctor in a very great hurry,And unto Lord Nelson these words he did say,Indeed, then, my lord, I am very sorry,To see you lying and bleeding this way,No matter, no matter whatever about me,My time it has come, I’m almost at the worst,And there’s my gallant seamen who’re fighting so boldly,Go and discharge your duty to them first.Then, with a loud voice he called out to his captain,Pray let me know how this battle does go,I think that our guns continue to rattle,Though death approaches, I very well know.The antagonists ship has gone to the bottom,Eighteen we’ve captured, and brought them on board,And there are two of them quite blown out of the ocean,So that is the news I have brought you, my Lord.Come all gallant seamen that unite a meeting,Always let Lord Nelson’s memory go round;For it is your duty, when you unite a meeting,Because he was loyal and true to the Crown;So now to conclude, and to finish these verses,My time it is come, I am quite at the worst,May the heavens go with you, and ten thousand blessings,May rest in the Fleet with you, Lord Collingwood.

Mourn, England, mourn; mourn and complain,For the loss of Lord Nelson, who died on the main.

From aloft, to aloft, where he was commanding,All by a French gun he received a ball,And, by the contents, he got mortally wounded,And that was the occasion of Lord Nelson’s fall.Like an undaunted hero, exposed to the fire,As he gave the command, on the quarter deck stood,And to hear of his actions, you would much admire,To see the decks covered all with human blood.

One hundred engagements he had been into,And never, in his time, was he known to be beat,For he had lost an arm, likewise his right eye, sir,No powers on earth could ever him defeat.His age, at his death, it was forty and seven,And as long as I live, his great praises, I’ll sing,For the whole navigation was given unto him,Because he was loyal and true to his king.

Then up steps the doctor in a very great hurry,And unto Lord Nelson these words he did say,Indeed, then, my lord, I am very sorry,To see you lying and bleeding this way,No matter, no matter whatever about me,My time it has come, I’m almost at the worst,And there’s my gallant seamen who’re fighting so boldly,Go and discharge your duty to them first.

Then, with a loud voice he called out to his captain,Pray let me know how this battle does go,I think that our guns continue to rattle,Though death approaches, I very well know.The antagonists ship has gone to the bottom,Eighteen we’ve captured, and brought them on board,And there are two of them quite blown out of the ocean,So that is the news I have brought you, my Lord.

Come all gallant seamen that unite a meeting,Always let Lord Nelson’s memory go round;For it is your duty, when you unite a meeting,Because he was loyal and true to the Crown;So now to conclude, and to finish these verses,My time it is come, I am quite at the worst,May the heavens go with you, and ten thousand blessings,May rest in the Fleet with you, Lord Collingwood.

Twason the 18 day of June[57]Napoleon did advance,The choicest troops that he could raise within the bounds of France;Their glittering eagles shone around, and proudly looked the foe,But Britain’s lion tore their wings, on the plains of Waterloo.With Wellington we’ll go, with Wellington we’ll go,For Wellington commanded us on the plains of Waterloo;The fight did last from ten o’clock until the dawn of day,While blood and limbs, and cannon balls in thick profusion lay.The number of the French, that at Waterloo were slain,Was near sixty thousand, all laid upon the plain;Near forty thousand of them fell upon that fatal day,Of our brave British heroes who their prowess did display.It’s now the dreadful night comes on, how dismal is the plain,When the Prussians, and the English found above ten thousand slain, (sic)Brave Wellington, and Blucher, bold, most nobly drove their foes,And Buonaparte’s Imperial Crown was taken at Waterloo.We followed up the rear till the middle of the night,We gave them three cheers as they were on their flight,Says Bony, d——n those Englishmen, they do bear such a name,They beat me here at Waterloo, at Portugal and Spain.Now peace be to their honoured souls who fell that glorious day,May the plough ne’er raise their bones, nor cut the sacred clay;But let the place remain a waste, a terror to the foe,And when trembling Frenchmen pass that way, they’ll think of Waterloo.

With Wellington we’ll go, with Wellington we’ll go,For Wellington commanded us on the plains of Waterloo;The fight did last from ten o’clock until the dawn of day,While blood and limbs, and cannon balls in thick profusion lay.

The number of the French, that at Waterloo were slain,Was near sixty thousand, all laid upon the plain;Near forty thousand of them fell upon that fatal day,Of our brave British heroes who their prowess did display.

It’s now the dreadful night comes on, how dismal is the plain,When the Prussians, and the English found above ten thousand slain, (sic)Brave Wellington, and Blucher, bold, most nobly drove their foes,And Buonaparte’s Imperial Crown was taken at Waterloo.

We followed up the rear till the middle of the night,We gave them three cheers as they were on their flight,Says Bony, d——n those Englishmen, they do bear such a name,They beat me here at Waterloo, at Portugal and Spain.

Now peace be to their honoured souls who fell that glorious day,May the plough ne’er raise their bones, nor cut the sacred clay;But let the place remain a waste, a terror to the foe,And when trembling Frenchmen pass that way, they’ll think of Waterloo.

Thevisit of George IV. to Scotland was purely one of pleasure. There being no railways, and posting being fatiguing, he went by sea, embarking at Greenwich on August 10, 1822, and arriving at Leith on the 14th, not landing, however, till the next day. His visit was not remarkable for anything except the multiplicity of his costumes. He embarked dressed as a private individual; he landed as an Admiral; he dined in full Highland costume (when Sir Walter Scott acted as principal Steward); and at another dinner posed as a Field Marshal. He did very little during his stay, leaving Scotland on August 29, arriving at Greenwich on September 1.

A NEW SONG CALLED

Langtime we’ve waited for our king,That he might caper, rant and fling,And lightly dance and gladly sing,You’re welcome, Royal Geordie.

But oh! you’re lang a-coming,Lang, lang, lang a-coming,O dinna be so lang a-coming,Come awa, King Geordie.Than Glasgow town there is not one,In a’ your great and glorious lan’,Who’d turn out a truer ban’,To guard their Royal Geordie.And, by the powers aboon, we swearIf any traitor come you near,The fause loon we’ll in pieces tear,A’ for our love to Geordie.For weel we ken your title’s gude,And shall maintain it with our blude,If any foreign foemen shouldDispute the right of Geordie.Then haste ye, Geordie, come awa—We’ll dress our wives and weans fu’ braw,They’ll rend the lift wi’ loud huzzaTo welcome their ain Geordie.In Edinbro’ too, time will pass sweet,Frae far and near they’ll Geordie greet,And you shall get braw lodgings meet,To house ye, Royal Geordie.Your Court you’ll haud in Holyrood,Where aft your ancestors have stood,All anxious for the public good,As now is Royal Geordie.The Castle’s ancient wa’ you’ll view,The old Scotch Crown and Sceptre too,To wear them nane has right but you,So come awa, King Geordie.And at Dalkeith with Duke Buccleugh,Your people a’ will round ye bow,Wi’ hearty love and fealty trueTo you their ain kind Geordie.In Perthshire ye’ll get Athole Brose,And Muir fowl frae the great Montrose,Wi’ us, my lad, ye’ll be jocose,So haste ye here, King Geordie.And, by my troth, there’s not a belle,Even ’mangst the rare ones of Pall Mall,To match the ladies of Dunkeld,Then hie ye north, King Geordie.And we shall dance a Highland Reel,’Twill please you weel my Royal Chiel,On Scotia’s heath to shake your heel,Wi’ some braw lass, King Geordie.Then haste, my cock, and come awa,’We’ll welcome you with loud huzza!And auld and young shall crouseley craw,“Long live our ain King Geordie.”

But oh! you’re lang a-coming,Lang, lang, lang a-coming,O dinna be so lang a-coming,Come awa, King Geordie.

Than Glasgow town there is not one,In a’ your great and glorious lan’,Who’d turn out a truer ban’,To guard their Royal Geordie.

And, by the powers aboon, we swearIf any traitor come you near,The fause loon we’ll in pieces tear,A’ for our love to Geordie.

For weel we ken your title’s gude,And shall maintain it with our blude,If any foreign foemen shouldDispute the right of Geordie.

Then haste ye, Geordie, come awa—We’ll dress our wives and weans fu’ braw,They’ll rend the lift wi’ loud huzzaTo welcome their ain Geordie.

In Edinbro’ too, time will pass sweet,Frae far and near they’ll Geordie greet,And you shall get braw lodgings meet,To house ye, Royal Geordie.

Your Court you’ll haud in Holyrood,Where aft your ancestors have stood,All anxious for the public good,As now is Royal Geordie.

The Castle’s ancient wa’ you’ll view,The old Scotch Crown and Sceptre too,To wear them nane has right but you,So come awa, King Geordie.

And at Dalkeith with Duke Buccleugh,Your people a’ will round ye bow,Wi’ hearty love and fealty trueTo you their ain kind Geordie.

In Perthshire ye’ll get Athole Brose,And Muir fowl frae the great Montrose,Wi’ us, my lad, ye’ll be jocose,So haste ye here, King Geordie.

And, by my troth, there’s not a belle,Even ’mangst the rare ones of Pall Mall,To match the ladies of Dunkeld,Then hie ye north, King Geordie.

And we shall dance a Highland Reel,’Twill please you weel my Royal Chiel,On Scotia’s heath to shake your heel,Wi’ some braw lass, King Geordie.

Then haste, my cock, and come awa,’We’ll welcome you with loud huzza!And auld and young shall crouseley craw,“Long live our ain King Geordie.”

Born February, 1788; died July 2, 1850, aged 62.

Britannia!Britannia! what makes thee complain,O, why so in sorrow relenting,Old England is lost, we are borne down in pain,And the nation in grief is lamenting.That excellent man—the pride of the land,Whom every virtue possessed him,Is gone to that Home, from whence none return,Our dear friend, Sir Robert, God bless him.The Rich and the Poor all did him adore,Admired, beloved, and respected,For his Country’s right, he struggled with might,And nothing by him was neglected.He nobly guided the Helm of State,The poor long have praised and blessed him,Now tears wet each eye, while in sorrow they sigh,He is gone, is Sir Robert, God rest him.Sad, sad was the day, when misfortune that way,From health, strength and vigour had tossed him,Upon the hard ground, to receive his death wound.[58]Oh mourn! mourn! Britannia, we’ve missed him.His equal again sure we never shall find,For every goodness possessed him,Britannia shall weep by the tomb where he sleeps,The patriot, Sir Robert, God rest him.Our Queen sighed in tears, when the tidings she heard,And her children, with hearts full of sorrow,Saying England is done, oh! where shall we runTo meet with his equal to-morrow?He’s not to be found upon England’s ground,Already, already, we’ve missed him,Britannia deplore, we’ll behold him no more,The Glory of England, God rest him.Talk of Canning and Pitt, for their talents and wit,And all who upheld that high Station,Oh! has there been e’er, such a noble Premier,As Sir Robert before, in the Nation?He’d by no one be led, he’d by no one be said,No Government feared to trust him,In every way, he carried the sway,For the good of his country: God rest him.At Sixty-two years of Age, cruel death did engage,Britannia to move from her station,From her councils and land, called that excellent man,Sir Robert the pride of the nation.Oh! the tears that were shed by Sir Robert’s death bed,Some hours before life had left him,Caused hearts to complain, in grief sorrow and pain,He is gone, is Sir Robert, God rest him.In the tomb where he sleeps, many thousands will weep,And his virtuous deeds lay before ye,And he will receive, in the regions of bliss,A coronet braided with glory.Though we part from him with pain, it’s no use to complain,He is for ever gone, and we’ve missed him,In peace may he sleep, while Britannia does weep,For her servant, Sir Robert, God bless him.

The Rich and the Poor all did him adore,Admired, beloved, and respected,For his Country’s right, he struggled with might,And nothing by him was neglected.He nobly guided the Helm of State,The poor long have praised and blessed him,Now tears wet each eye, while in sorrow they sigh,He is gone, is Sir Robert, God rest him.

Sad, sad was the day, when misfortune that way,From health, strength and vigour had tossed him,Upon the hard ground, to receive his death wound.[58]Oh mourn! mourn! Britannia, we’ve missed him.His equal again sure we never shall find,For every goodness possessed him,Britannia shall weep by the tomb where he sleeps,The patriot, Sir Robert, God rest him.

Our Queen sighed in tears, when the tidings she heard,And her children, with hearts full of sorrow,Saying England is done, oh! where shall we runTo meet with his equal to-morrow?He’s not to be found upon England’s ground,Already, already, we’ve missed him,Britannia deplore, we’ll behold him no more,The Glory of England, God rest him.

Talk of Canning and Pitt, for their talents and wit,And all who upheld that high Station,Oh! has there been e’er, such a noble Premier,As Sir Robert before, in the Nation?He’d by no one be led, he’d by no one be said,No Government feared to trust him,In every way, he carried the sway,For the good of his country: God rest him.

At Sixty-two years of Age, cruel death did engage,Britannia to move from her station,From her councils and land, called that excellent man,Sir Robert the pride of the nation.Oh! the tears that were shed by Sir Robert’s death bed,Some hours before life had left him,Caused hearts to complain, in grief sorrow and pain,He is gone, is Sir Robert, God rest him.

In the tomb where he sleeps, many thousands will weep,And his virtuous deeds lay before ye,And he will receive, in the regions of bliss,A coronet braided with glory.Though we part from him with pain, it’s no use to complain,He is for ever gone, and we’ve missed him,In peace may he sleep, while Britannia does weep,For her servant, Sir Robert, God bless him.

Onthe 14th of September, near to the town of Deal,As you may well remember, who have a heart to feel,Died Wellington, a general bold, of glorious renown,Who beat the great Napoleon, near unto Brussels town.

So don’t forget brave Wellington, who won at Waterloo,He beat the great Napoleon, and all his generals, too.He led the British Army on through Portugal and Spain,And every battle there he won, the Frenchman to restrain,He ever was victorious in every battle field,He gained a fame most glorious because he’d never yield.He drove Napoleon from home, in exile for to dwell,Far o’er the sea, and from his home, and all he lov’d so well,He stripped him quite of all his power, and banish’d him away,To St. Helena’s rocks and towers, the rest of his life to stay.Then on the throne of France he placed Louis, the King, by right,In after years he was displaced all by the people’s might;But should the young Napoleon threaten our land and laws,We’ll find another Wellington should ever we have cause.He’s dead, our hero’s gone to rest, and o’er his corpse we’ll mourn,With sadness and with grief oppress’d, for he will not return,But we his deeds will not forget, and should we, e’er again,Follow th’ example that he set, his glory we’ll not stain.

So don’t forget brave Wellington, who won at Waterloo,He beat the great Napoleon, and all his generals, too.

He led the British Army on through Portugal and Spain,And every battle there he won, the Frenchman to restrain,He ever was victorious in every battle field,He gained a fame most glorious because he’d never yield.

He drove Napoleon from home, in exile for to dwell,Far o’er the sea, and from his home, and all he lov’d so well,He stripped him quite of all his power, and banish’d him away,To St. Helena’s rocks and towers, the rest of his life to stay.

Then on the throne of France he placed Louis, the King, by right,In after years he was displaced all by the people’s might;But should the young Napoleon threaten our land and laws,We’ll find another Wellington should ever we have cause.

He’s dead, our hero’s gone to rest, and o’er his corpse we’ll mourn,With sadness and with grief oppress’d, for he will not return,But we his deeds will not forget, and should we, e’er again,Follow th’ example that he set, his glory we’ll not stain.

Thefollowing, although not a ballad, was popularly sold in the streets, and will serve as a good introduction to the question of Reform. I have omitted passages which were irrelevant to the matter. I find ReformStreetBallads very scarce.

1Nowit came to pass that the land had rest for seventeen years.

2 For the Britons had subdued their enemies, even the French, and restored peace to all the Continent.

3 Nevertheless the people groaned by reason of oppression, and of the multitude of taxes which was laid upon them to support the rich and the great with pensions and rewards.

4 And they cried and petitioned for redress, but their prayers were not heard.

5 And George the Fourth was gathered to his fathers, and William reigned in his stead.

6 Now there was at this time a mighty man of renown called Arthur.

7 And he gained the confidence of the King, and abused his ear with falsities respecting the people.

8 And the people were much displeased with the power of this man of war, for he ruled them as he had done his soldiers.

9 And their eyes were turned towards a certain nobleman whose possessions lieth north of the Tyne.

10 Arthur feeling that he could rule no longer, resigned his authority, and the King elected that nobleman, even Grey, whose possessions lieth north of the Tyne, to be ruler under him over the people.

11 And he stood before the King, and said, O King, live for ever, thy people have been long afflicted with heavy burdens which they cannot bear, and their cries and lamentations ascend to heaven.

12 And the King was troubled in his mind at these sayings, and he caused the records of the realm to be brought before him, and then he found that his subjects were not fairly represented; and he was in much agitation of mind, and trembled exceedingly and cried with a loud voice, What shall I do?

13 And the noble, even Grey, said unto him, We must endeavour to amend these things; and, oh King, if thou wilt give me permission, such a law shall be framed that all the land will rejoice.

14 And the King said, Do as it pleaseth thee best in this matter.

15 Then Grey called all the representatives of the people together, and shewed them the new law which he had framed for the people’s benefit.

16 But several of those who were interested with regard to money, lifted up their voices against it.

17 Nevertheless the thing did prevail, in that house, the Assembly of the People, called the House of Commons.

18 But when this same law was brought before the Lords, they laughed it to scorn, saying amongst themselves, Shall we be deprived of all the good things we have enjoyed so long? Shall we divide the spoil amongst those we despise? And, as it were, with the voice of one man, they said, No!

19 Now the High Priests of the nation consulted amongst themselves, and said, Alas! what will become of us if this law passeth? We must then bid farewell to all that we have held so dear.

20 And the lamentation amongst the High Priests was very great, for every one of them lamented as if he had lost his first born.

21 And they came unto the Council of the Nation, even the House of Lords, and said, We will not have this law to pass.

22 For, although we are paid, and well paid, to teach the people, yet in our wisdom it seemeth good unto us to keep them ignorant.

23 For, be it known unto you, that, unless they are kept ignorant, and deprived of power, no man can govern them.

24 And the Lords listened unto these speeches, and would not allow the good law to pass.

25 Then stood the great and good noble, even Grey, before the King, and said, thou knowest thy nobles and the high priests of the land will not allow this law to pass.

26 Therefore I lay my commission at thy feet.

27 And the king answered and said, do as it seemeth best to thee.

28 And Grey bowed himself to the earth, and departed from the presence of the King.

29 And the King was troubled in spirit, and he sent in haste for Arthur, even the mighty man of renown.

30 And Arthur arose, and girded up his loins, and stood before the King.

31 And the King said unto him, Arthur, I know thee to be a man in whom is the spirit of wisdom and of valour, I am sorely troubled in mind respecting this affair. What shall I do?

32 Arthur answered and said, be not troubled, neither let thy spirit be cast down, for I can rule these people easily, and with a rod of iron must they be ruled: grant unto me the commission, and I will make them obedient.

33 And the King said, do as seemeth good in thine own eyes.

34 But when the people heard these things they were sorely grieved; and became exceedingly enraged.

35 And said, shall this man of war, who is an enemy to liberty, reign over us?

36 And the people from the land’s end, even unto Johnny Groat’s house, rose up, as it were with one consent; and in every village, and every city, and in every town, did they rise up and meet together in theopen air to shew their hatred of Arthur, and of his oppression, and their determination to be free.

37 And the multitudes were exceeding great, that no man might number them, and they bore banners, having on them painted various devices.

38 And the cry of the people was great, and the noise of their shouting was like the sound of many waters.

39 And they cried, if Arthur is to rule us, to thy tents, O, Britons!

40 Now, the great, and the just men, and the good amongst the people, stood up, and spake with a loud voice, saying,

41 Be it known unto you, O, Britons, that Arthur can do nothing without money, therefore refuse you to pay taxes till you are made free.

42 And the people shouted, and cried, We will give no money till we are free; and having sung a war-like song, every man went to his own house.

43 Now, when the king heard of these things he was sore afraid, and he told Arthur to depart from his presence, and he called Grey before him.

44 And he said, thy wisdom is great, get this bill passed, else we be all dead men.

45 And the thing was done in haste, for great fear and trembling had fallen upon them.

46 And the Nobles and the high priests agreed unto the bill, for they were sore afraid, and quaked much.

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