The Paupers’ Chaunt25
Air:—“Oh the Roast-Beef of Old England!”
O we’re very well fed,
So we must not repine,
Though turkey we’ve cut,
And likewise the chine;
But, oh! once a-year
We should just like to dine
On the roast-beef of Old England,
Oh the old English roast-beef!
O, the gruel’s delicious,
The taters divine—
And our very small beer
Is uncommonly fine;
But with us we think
You would not like to dine,
Without the roast-beef of Old England,
Oh the old English roast-beef!
Our soup’s very good,
We really must own,
But of what it is made
Arn’t very well known;
So, without any soup
We would much rather dine
On the roast-beef of Old England,
Oh the old English roast-beef!
Mince-pies they are nice,
And plum-pudding is fine.
But we’d give up them both
For “ribs” or “Sir Line,”
If for once in the year
We could but just dine
On the roast-beef of Old England,
Oh the old English roast-beef!
“Roast beef and plum-pudding”
Is true Christmas fare,
But they think that our morals
Such dainties won’t bear.
Oh! oh! it is plain
Ne’er more shall we share
In the roast-beef of Old England,
Oh the old English roast-beef.
Still long life to the Queen
Is the toast we’d be at;
With a health to the Prince,
May he live and grow fat!
And may all under him
Have abundance of that—
What?—Why the roast-beef of England,
Oh the old English roast-beef!