Wonderful Mr. Spurgeon
Oh! there is such a wonderful man,
Just listen to my sequel,
I’m sure throughout the British land
There never was his equal.
He’s such a chap to preach and teach,
Father, mother, son, and daughter,
And for to hear this wonderful man
They run from every quarter.
This wonderful man surprises the land,
Parson, lawyer, snob, and surgeon,
From every place they run a race,
To the wonderful man call’d Spurgeon.
He can please the duke, the lord, & squire
And ladies with gold lockets,
He can make the very sovereigns jump
Out of old women’s pockets.
He can look above, and look below,
And deeply groan, and sigh, ah!
He can shake the rocks and swallow the whale
He’s a greater man than Jonah.
Oh, such a sermon he can preach,
And the congregation harras,
He has a tabernacle twice
As big as the Crystal Palace.
He can make a Bishop jump Jim Crow,
Turn a peeler into a carter,
He can make a parson’s daughter jump
Right bang out of her garters.
He can shake the damsels’ crinoline,
And cure a cobbler’s sore throat;
He bangs the country east and west,
And licks Johanna Southgate.
There never was since Sampson lived,
A man on earth to match him;
Spurgeon is an out and outer, lads,
To act the game of cadging.
If Spurgeon went into St. Paul’s,
I’m sure he’d not dissemble,
His voice would make the dome to rise,
And St. Paul’s church for to tremble.
And what do you think he does it for?
Why, for money, I supposes;
Some say Spurgeon is a greater man,
Than Soloman or Moses.
Oh, can’t he spin a tidy yarn,
And trick the ladies handsome,
He makes you think he’s twice as strong
As that old covey Sampson.
They’ll say by and bye that he can fly,
To kingdom come, and stop there,
Dance a hornpipe in the clouds,
And jump to Ballinahoker.
Punch says he is a wonderful man,
And causes many a row, sirs,
Oh, can’t he make the joey’s fly
From the pockets of your trousers,
And when not vexed, he gives the text,
He alarms the congregation;
A better beggar can’t be found,
All over this great nation.
Well, every man unto his trade,
The cobbler, snip, and surgeon,
Many a good day’s work he’s made,
So much for Parson Spurgeon.
He can make the money fly like rain,
No man on earth can stop it,
His wonderful voice will make it jump
Like winking out of your pocket.
H. Disley, Printer, 57, High Street, St. Giles.