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THE PREMIER'S LAMENT.

Now the Parliament men are going to meet
And thousands of people are thronging the street
Get out of the way,
I have long been a servant of England's Queen
I was born in Scotland at Aberdeen.

                           CHORUS.

They have kicked up a row and petitioned the
Queen,
To b udle out, poor old Aberdeen

As I walked out the other day
I think I heard the people say—Turn him out
He is a friend of Nick the Russian Bear
And he is not fit for to be Premier,

What shall I do when J get the sack,
Russian bayouets bullets and fat,
What shall I do ?
Go picking up bones and rags or then
Go singing old pots and kettles to me d

I will travel to Manchester to night
And tell the old Russian Quaker Bright
How I've been served,
But Johnny as hated as much as me
For they burnt the old Quakers F. E. G.

They say I have been, oh dear, oh dear,
The Emperer's friend for forty years
Whiskey and s uff.
Newcastle and Palmerston help me along
Come give me your hand finality John.

Come over the ocean swift and fast
My brave old sailor and friend Dundas
Oatmeal and sprats
And with Charley Napier tell what you've done
When at Odessa and Bomarsund,

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From London they'll make me cut my stick,
And go to my friend old Russian Nick
To St. Petersburgh
They say for a minister I'm no use
And they call me a sneaking silly old goose

In the blind half hundred I will enrol
And go and conquer Sebastapol,
Fire and smoke
I will stick myself in front of the line
And kill the Russians en at a time

Now little Lord Jack if you'll go with me
You shall be a sergeant of high degree,
Leather and fat.
And when we have made all the Russians run
We will live in a cottage in Bomarsund.

I have served the Crown and served the Queen
And what have I done poor Aberdeen !
To be treated so,
A fool and Russian they do me call
And indeed I am no Russian at all

They have taken against me a great dislike,
And so they have old Billy Bright,
The old Quaker of fame,
So I suppose together w'll have to gang
Singing bellows to mend and scissors to grind,

They have bothered the Queen both night & day
To send old Aberdeen away,
Bawling turn him out,
Give him the sack and powder his wig,
And a parson called me a Russian pig
                           CHORUS.

What a good old servant I have been
Have pity on me poor Aberdeen.

Powell, Printer, 18, Whitehorse-yard, Drury-
lane.—CARDS, Tenpence per Hundred.