Page:The cry for justice - an anthology of the literature of social protest. - (IA cryforjusticea00sinc).pdf/91

 *shire long ago. You want a good Chartist lecturer down here, my covies, to show you donkeys of laboring men that you have got iron on your heels, if you only knowed how to use it"

Blackbird was by this time prevailed on to sing, and burst out as melodious as ever, while all heads were cocked on one side in delighted attention.

"I zeed a vire o' Monday night, A vire both great and high; But I wool not tell you where, my boys,  Nor wool not tell you why. The varmer he comes screeching out,  To zave 'uns new brood mare; Zays I, 'You and your stock may roast,  Vor aught us poor chaps care.'

"Coorus, boys, coorus!"

And the chorus burst out—

"Then here's a curse on varmers all As rob and grind the poor; To re'p the fruit of all their works  In  for evermoor-r-r-r.

"A blind owld dame come to the vire, Zo near as she could get; Zays, 'Here's a luck I warn't asleep,  To lose this blessed hett. They robs us of our turfing rights  Our bits of chips and sticks, Till poor folks now can't warm their hands,  Except by varmers' ricks.'

"Then, etc."