SUNDAY TRADING RIOT

                Tune—' Villikins and his Dinah.'

OH, my friends, have you heard of this terrible
job,
About Sunday Trading and Grosveoor Bob,
If you've not I'm going to tell you all pat,
While you swallow pump handles and wallop the
cat.

                        CHORUS.

On Sunday there was such a row and a lark,
You would laugh till you burst had you been
in the Park.

The ladies did squall & the dogs they did bark,
And the rolling-pins rattled all over the park ;
And there stood Lord Bob and his Marylebone
mate,
With a lump of pease-pudding at Grosvenor-gate
There was tailors & dustmen & tradesmen a lot
Some sucking oranges, some ginger pop,
There was some on the grass, some up in the trees
And ladies with trousers fring'd up to the knees.
Fifty thousand assembled on that glorious day,
From Marylebone, Chelsea, and Brompton they
say,
There was Nancy & Polly, Suke, Betty and Jane
And pretty Rebeeca from Diury Lane.
The footman laid down, and the butler sly look'd
The ladies maid had a go in at the sook,
The coachman did grin, & the housemaid did job,
And the kitchen-maid swore she would hurrass
Lord Bob.

The ladies were frighten'd, the horses stood still,
The folks cursed Lord Robert & his Sunda Bill,
And one dear old Duchess was knock'd off her
perch,
For she swallow'd her bible while going to church
The truncheons did rattle, the people did run
And, oh, dear, how the peelers did laugh at the
fun ;
Since the world was first made there was not such
a lark,
And they hung Bobby's Trading Bill up in the
Park,

Lord Robert was there, and he ran for his life,
He knock'd down his daughter and wallopp'd his
wife,
He lock'd up the cupboard, his servants he led,
without either dinner or supper to bed
That day it would have been a terrible job,
If they in the Park bad caught Grosvenor Bob,
His New Sunday Trading Bill soon he would find
Pinn'd fast to the tail of his breeches behind

The New Sunday Trading Bill caus'd such a lark
And they hunted Lord Bobby all over Hydepark

              JIMMIE.

            (a parody on minnie)

[NLS note: a graphic appears here - see image of page]

Printed and Published by E. Hodges,
(from Pitts) Wholesale Toy & Marble
warehouse, 26, Grafton Street, Soho.

WHEN my spirits are high, if I've cash
in my cly,
And I feel in the humour to rove,
Spite of sunshine or showers, oft I ram-
ble for hours,
On the arm of my own fancy cove.
Then, it's Jimmie, dear Jimmie, come on
the spree,
For I feel precious dry, but a public is
nigh,
And flash Polly is waiting for thee,
Flash Polly is waiting for thee

And when it is night, if I'm jolly well
tight,
And I feel just inclined for a sleep,
Towards my lodgings I steer, in a deep
state of beer,
And into my bug walk I creep,
But Jimmie, dear Jimmie, comes not with
me,
Me smoe new dodge will try, while
asleep I do lie,
To be raising the wind, d'ye see ?
To be raising the wind, d'ye see ?