The Great — Liberal Majority of 110
The Tories they are Froze out, and got no Work to do.
Draw near all you true Liberals,
And listen for awhile,
While I a ditty sing to you
That will cause you for to smile;
It’s concerning of the poor Tories,
Who are in a precious stew, oo-oo
They are out of a job, so-help-my-bob,
And got no work to do,
For the Liberals they have gained you see,
One hundred and ten majority,
And the Tories they are all froze out,
And got no work to do.
Through England and Ireland,
Scotland and Wales, they cry,
Give us the brave Liberals,
And let their colours fly;
For you may see by the returns,
The Tories they have cause to mourn,
They are in disgrace, and out place,
And got no work to do;
They are a selfish crew, oo-oo,
And their noses look quite blue oo-oo,
Their day is past, done brown at last,
And got no work to do.
For the Liberals, &c.
Now there is the Irish Bishops,
Must spout their shovel, hat, and wigs,
They will get no rent in shape of tenths,
Nor get no nice tythe pigs:
And the little boys will them get at,
I say, old boy, I’ll have your hat;
You have lost your tythes, and sarve you right,
You will have no work to do.
Yes, they will be licked clean off their perch,
If they capsize the Irish Church,
For Gladstone will give them the sack,
They’ll have no work to do.
For the Liberals, &c.
Ben Dizzey, he is lamenting,
For he is in a dreadful fix,
And from St. Stephen’s Cabinet-works,
He has had to cut his stick;
He is grieving for the loaves and fishes,
He may say his grace to empty dishes,
For Gladstone he will cut his comb,
Oh dear, what will he do?
His hopes are up the flue oo-oo,
But I pity him, don’t you, oo-oo?
He is all the way from Buckinghamshire,
And got no work to do.
For the Liberals, &c.
Now the Tories boast in Westminster,
They have gained a victory,
But how John Mill he has turned out,
You all may plainly see;
And there are more in the same state,
Who have been fishing with a golden bait,
But it is all of no use, we have cooked their goose,
They’ll have no work to do,
They dirty tricks can do, oo-oo,
What I tell you is quite true, oo-oo,
In St. Stephen’s Hall, they will sing small,
We have got no work to do, oo-oo.
For the Liberals, &c.
Now the working-men of England,
May chance to get their rights,
While they have their Champion Gladstone,
Their battles for to fight;
For that he is a brick, you’ll say I am right,
And so is that old cock Johnny Bright,
And the Tories them for to affright,
Will have their work to do.
Then for Reform give three huzzas!
The Liberals have gained the day,
And the Tories they in grief do say,
We have got no work to do.
For the Liberals, &c.
H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles, London.