A NEW SONG ON

            THE CENSUS.

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PUNCH'S SHAKSPERIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.
"Poor Tom's a-cold."
                        King Lear, Act 1, Scene 1.
Why is a child with a cold in its head like a winter's
day?—Because it blows its nose (it blows, it snows.)

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PUNCH'S SHAKSPERIAN ILLUSTRATIONS.
"So should the murderer look !"—Midsummer Night
Dream, Act 3, Scene 1.
What animal has the most brains ?—The hog. He has a
nogshead full of' em.

O pay attention old and young,
And I will not detain you long,
I am going to sing a comic song,
And all about the census.
According to the Government plan
Every woman, child, and man,
That slept in your house on Sunday night,
No matter wether black or white,
Old or young blind or lame,
Wise or crazy, all the same,
On the 3rd of April what a game,
They had to be put in the Census.

Every one on Sunday night,
Wise and witty, wrong or right,
Brown and yellow, black and white,
They had to be put in the Census.

You'd to give your christian, and irname
Where you was born from where you came
Aud if bli d, deaf, dumb or lame,
Ii had to be put in the census.
Your rank, profession, and what you do,
Wether you're married or single to,
If you didn't put these particulars down,
You were under a penalty of £5.
If a widow or widower, you had to say,
And give your age from last birthday,
And if girls are in a particulay way,
It had to be put in the census.

There's one old cove name Billy Brown,
When the Census paper was brought round,
Says he by gecrge I must put down,
All my family in the Census.
He put down himself, his wife, then he
Began to describe his family,
There was Michael, Murphy, Dan and Pat
Three hen,s a cock. a dog, and a cat,
Will sleep in the house on Sunday night,
If every thing goes well and right,
But the bugs and fleas so nip and bite,
They ought to be pnt in the Census.

I
n--street there's some old dame.
From the ickney, Hockey, island came,
And she has got the funniest name.
That will be n the Census.
It takes 90 letters her name to spell,
And how to pronounce it old Nick can't teil
She was left a widow in sixty-one,
With 12 young daughters and a son,
Two is in France, aud two's in Spain,
Three's troubled with water on the brain,
Four's in Walt n gaol, and three insane,
What a jolly fine lot for the Census.

There's one old woman name Betty Bright,
See did'nt understand it right,
She filled up her form on Thursday night,
And put this into the Census.
At Bullock's smithy I was born,
At five o'clock one bright May morn,
Last birthday I was just three score,
And children l've had twenty four,
Fifteen are living nine is dead,
Twelve are single, three is wed,
And two on Thursday got there bed,
Just in t me for the Census.

John White, Printer, Rose Place,
   Scotland Road, Liverpool.