Southwark Election
Odger and Victory
Now all you gallant Southwark men,
Who does require protection,
Just mind I say, your p’s and q’s
At this Great Grand Election;
Never don’t elect a man
Who your wages will be stinting,
And never have a covetuous man
Like one who lives by printing.
Then act like men you Southwark blades,
Have neither a printer nor a “sodger,
Vote for a man who will protect your trade,
And sing, Southwark, lads, and Odger.
Long enough the poor man has been crushed,
Now is your time or never,
Come, now with me lads, nimble be,
Here’s Odger, lads, for ever.
Don’t you elect a Waterlow,
Whose principles are stinting,
He knows as much about the poor man’s rights
As a donkey knows of printing.
There has lately been some glorious fights,
In Southwark, says Ben Fagan.
It beat the Battle of Bunker’s Hill,
And the glories of Copenhagen;
An old lady stood by London Bridge,
Bawling, lick me you shall never,
She jumped complete to Toloey Street,
Bawling, Odger, boys, for ever.
In Bermondsey there was glorious fun
Among the girls and sailors,
It put the Borough all in mind
Of the devil among the tailors.
A grocer’s wife, full of spleen and spite,
Doffed her chignon so clever,
Pulled her petticoat off and went aloft,
Singing, Odger, boys, for ever.
Oh, Colonel, Colonel Beresford,
You are a rum old codger,
Neither you or Waterlow
Can ever cope with Odger;—
Odger is a working man,
And as clever a man as Pompey,
Odger is a gentleman,
And you are a pair of donkeys.
When Odger is returned, my boys,
To the brim we’ll fill our glasses,
We will drink success to the tanners’ wives,
And the blooming Kent Street lasses;
From the Bricklayers’ Arms to London Bridge,
There will be such a bustle,
Aye, and all the way from Cotton’s Wharf
To the Elephant and Castle.
Put the right man in the right place,
Keep out the aristocratic sodger
Tell old Waterlow it is no go—
It is victory and Odger;
The working men must have a friend,
Who against tyranny is clever,
With heart and glee, sing liberty,
Odger, my lads, for ever.
Odger we know is a working man,
If he’s not rich, he’s noble-minded,
He will understand how the working man
Has been crushed down and grinded.
Then send him into Parliament,
To put a stop to their capers,
And tell them we want a good beef steak,
Instead of herrings and taters.
Keep out the printing gentleman,
Banish the tyrant sodger,
Strive with all your might to do what’s right,
And plump my lads for Odger.
Printed for the Vendors.