THE HUMOURS OF MANCHESTER RACES. Since last I trod upon this ground, I've travers'd Sea and Lands, But now I am, bad money like, return'd upon your Hands; I've beat my brains, for little gains, thro' North, South, East and West, And found at last, Home all surpass'd, believe me 'tis no jest.- (Spoken.) Jest, no! 'tis a very serious matter to be running up and down the world like a Will o' the Wisp, here a little and there a little, always in the wrong place, and for my part I've grown as small as pin wire, dang it, thinks I, there's better doings than this at Manchester Races, pretty Pickings, ordinary dinners-- They'll eat and they'll drink at a pretty pace, Bridgwater, Bull's Head, i'th' Market-place, White Horse and Spread Eagle, Hanging-ditch, Landlords are all growing very rich; Then to Manchester Races we'll go What fiddling, fighting, bull-baiting, I've seen at Eccles Wakes, But no such pretty sport you'll find through all the land of Cakes; The Bagpipes play, they dance away, the Lads and Lasses rosy, And when all's done, there's better fun, at Pendleton Pow Posey. (Spoken.) Ah! Man do ye ken the New Toon at Edinbro' and the College of Physicians? aye mun, says 1, but look at the Town of Manchester, and the College in the Old Church Yard! then for Physicians, havn't we the Whitworth Doctors! then for your fine Streets There's Church Street, High Street, Rook Street, Pall Mall, Piccadilly and Duke Street, Hanging-ditch, Hyde's Cross and Burner Street, 'Tis said that Learning may be had by wholesale in the North, And Wisdom there is cheaper far than England can bring forth; For there's preaching cheap, and teaching cheap, and Poets of great fame, They'll threap me down, in our town, there's none can do the same. (Spoken.) Yes but we can tho', we can work all this by Steam; and more than that, we can rock the Cradle, roast Beef, and scrape Potatoes by Steam, and by and by, I dare say-Parsons will preach by a Steam Engine, Doctors will bleed by a Steam Engine, Soldiers will shoot by a Steam Engine, Kill Bonaparte by a Steam Engine, Then to Manchester Races we'll go. Such crowds of Folks together met, sure ne'er were seen before, From all the Country round about, to the Races on Kersey Moor; From Oldham, Rochdale, Bolton too, as throng as Smithv-door, From Chorley, and Chewbent a few, likewise from Cockey-moor. (chen.) Barrel Cyder, barrel Cyder, fourpénce a quart, twopence a pint, and a penny the half pint!-Bowl up, bowl up, cívil Will, all's in the Well, hit your Legs and miss my Pegs! Whirl about, round about Kitty Fisher, Hackney Coaches, a halfpenny a Ride! Valk in, Valk in, Ladies and Gentlemen, see the Old Lion from Bengal; the African Tiger, and the Vild Man of the Vood!— Shew him up, shew him up, mine's the best Shew, none of your vild Beastesses! for here's Mr. Punch and his merry Companions, Jane Shore, the Devil and the Baker! how d'ye like it Sir? like it, why its all a pack of dn'd Stuff! there, there, the Gemman says he likes it, ha! ha! ha! Then to Manchester Races we'll go. THE FROG IN THE COCK'D HAT, A FROG he would a wooing go, Whether his mother would let him or no, Gammon and spinnage, O heigh, said Anthony Rowly. Off he set, with his opera hat, On the road he met with a rat, They soon arriv'd at the mouse's hall, They gave a loud tap, and they gave a loud With a rowly powly, &c. Pray Mrs. Mouse are you within ? Yes, kind sirs, I'm sitting to spin, With a rowly powley, &c. Come, Mrs. Mouse, now give us some beer, That Froggy and I may have some cheer, Pray, Mr. Frog, will you give us a song? Let the subject be something that's not very long, With a rowly powly, &c. Indeed Mrs. Mouse, replied the frog, A cold as made me as horse as a hog, Since you have caught cold, Mr. Frog, Heigho, said Rowly, I'll sing you a song that I have just made, As they were in glee and a merry making, A cat and her kittens came tumbling in, The cat she seiz'd the rat by the crown, The kittens they pulled the little mouse down, With a rowly powly, &c. This put Mr. frog in a terrible fright, He took up his hat, and he wish'd 'em good night, With a rowly powly, &c. As Froggy was crossing it over a brook, A lilly white duck came and gobbled him up, So here is an end to one, two and three, The rat, the mouse, and little Frogg With a rowly powly, &c. THE MAIL COACH. Tune. "The Country Club." We make no longer stay; (Spoken in different voices.J-Why waiter!- Coming sir. Where's my gravy soup?-Just took off the gridiron.make haste, I shall loose my place. I hope your honour will remember the poor ostler.--Are the beefstakes ready - - No! but your chops are.--What a concourse of people are going in these coaches!--All fast behind.--Hip. (Imitates the sound of the guard's horn.) Then 'tis away we rattle, Jolly dogs and stylish cattle, What a cavalcade of coaches What work for man and beast! They cry--I've lost the coach. (Spoken in various voices.)--How's this? I'm sure my name was booked.--No such thing ma'am.--A |