A New Song New Song on the Times
Good people all I pray draw near,
We have entered in another year,
The markets now they must come down,
Both in country and in town;
The farmers now begin to grin,
Their corn to market must bring in,
The ports are opened now you see,
In spite of all their roguery.
They’ve risen the barley, flour, and meal,
I think they must have hearts like steel,
And wages are so very low,
Fills poor men’s hearts with grief and woe;
The potatoes too, you all must know,
Have proved poor people’s overthrow,
If they had been good, I am very sure
They never would have rais’d the flour.
The rich have all things at command,
While poverty rages through the land,
And bread it is so very dear,
Draws from poor people many a tear;
The store houses are breaking down with grain,
No wonder that the poor complain,
In the midst of plenty you plainly see,
They are dying from want and poverty.
The Americans have provisions in store,
From the black sea they will send us more,
The millers and farmers will look blue,
They’ll not know which way for to do;
I hope that trade may flourish once more,
Upon this our native shore,
Then the working man will be right glad
To see his children well cloth’d and fed.
The maltsters and brewers they stamp and swear,
With sugar and treacle must brew their beer,
For all the malt that they do use,
Must all be made into barley loaves;
So drunkards all I tell to you true,
It’s old hock you must bid adieu!
No more of that will be I vow,
So you must drink all treacle now.
Now, to conclude and make an end,
I hope the times they soon will mend,
Send trade and commerce to our shore,
Then the working men will grieve no more,
In peace and unity, they will unite,
Then all the nation will be right,
I hope I have said nothing wrong,
So now I finish off my song.