Come all you bold Britons, where'er you be, I pray give attention and listen to me, There once was good times, but they're gone by complete, For a poor man lives now on eight shillings a week. * * * Our venerable fathers remember the year, When a man earned three shillings a day and his beer, He then could live well, keep his family neat, But now he must work for "Eight Shillings a week." The Nobs of old England of shameful renown Are striving to crush a poor man to the ground, They'll beat down their wages, and starve them complete, And compel them to work hard for "Eight Shillings a week." A poor man to labour (believe me 'tis so) To maintain his family is willing to go Either hedging or ditching, to plough or to reap, But how does he live on "Eight Shillings a week"? * * * So now to conclude and finish my song, May the "Times" be much better before it is long, May every labourer be able to keep His children and wife on "Twelve Shillings a week." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...RESOLUTION OF A POETICAL QUESTION CONCERNING FOUR RURAL SISTERS: 2 by CHARLES COTTON THE JOURNEY by EMILY DICKINSON HUGH SELWYN MAUBERLEY: 9. MR. NIXON by EZRA POUND PRESIDENT LINCOLN'S BURIAL HYMN by WALT WHITMAN THE WIDOW OF GLENCOE by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN AUTUMN SOLILOQUY by ELSIE DINWIDDIE BARTLETT |