SUNDAY CLOSING BILL.

            LITTLE FAT GREY MAN.

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

E. HODGES Printer, Wholesale Toy and Marble
Warehouse, 26, Grafton Street, Sobo Where up-
wards of a 100,000 Songs are constantly on sale.

THERE was never such times you may see very
plain,
Since Adam and ve dwelt in Petticoat Lane,
When Sunday & Monday folks did as they like,
But now recollect after Saturday night,
Till St. Monday morning the wind must not blow,
The pig must not grunt & the cock must not crow
The cat must not mew and the dog must not bark
And young men and maids must not kiss in the
dark.
                              CHORUS
This New Sunday Trading Bill, mark what I say
Will knock some old maids in the family way.
If you eat, drink, or whistle, be punish'd you will
You may read the contents in the New Sunday
Bill.

The ducks must not quack, and the bird must not
sing,
You must not be out, nor you must not be in ;
Old ladies, old ladies, mind what you're at !
You'll be fined if you give any meat to your cats.
If men open their shops, they'll be fined forty bob
And if they don't pay it a fortnight in quod.
That's the first time, and then, for the second you
will,
Have five pounds to pay, or a month on the mill.

The bakers must not bake a pudding or pie,
Or they'll get a hot donovan slap in their eye :
If your wife is in labour for the midwife you run,
You ll be fined 7 pounds, if she happens to come ;
For the New Sunday Act is by women pack'd tight
No child must be born after Saturday night,
No matter how serious or dreadful the shock,
Put it off until Monday at eleven o'clock.

The goose must not bis & the fish must not swim
You must not lay your hand on your wife's roll-
ing pin,
You must not eat toast and you must not drink tea
You must not drink gin or well punish'd you'll be
You must not lie down, nor you must not go out,
You must not wash your face, or a child's dirty
clout,
You must all go to chapel, so buxom and keen,
To sing Rule Britannia and God save the Queen.

After nine in the morning, no barber must shave,
No hair must be curl'd, and no bed must be made
You must not eat apples or brandy balls hot,
You must not sell hearings or taste ginger pop,
And if a maid's garter should fall on the ground,
If she dares pick it up, they will fine her a pound.
If a woman is known for to lace up her stays.
She'll be sent to pick oakum for twenty-one days.

On, crikey, oh dear, what is people to do ?
All the long day of Sunday we'll have to get thro'
Without eating or drinking, or going to sleep,
You'll be fined if you dare in a gin-shop to peep,
I wish all the fools who the thing did propose,
Had the New Sunday Trading Bill tied to their
nose,
A pump in their mouth and they'd find it no joke
Wit the do m of St. Paul's stuck bang in their
throat.
                     CHORUS.
To starve us on Sunday they are going to try,
I suppose something else they will p an bye & bye
To crush down the poor man, and keep them for-
lorn,
Don t you think that Old England wants a reform

LITTLE FAT GREY MAN.

There is a little man dress'd all in grey
He lives in the City, & he'e always gay,
He's round as an apple plump as a pear
He has not a shilling, he has not a care.
Yet he laughs and he sings, ha ! ha ! ha !
What a merry, little, fat, grey man.

He drinks without counting the number
of glasses,                     (lasses,
He sings merry songs and flirts with the
He has debts, he has duns; when the ba-
lifls draws near,               (ear,
He shuts up his door, & e shuts up his
Yet he laughs and he sings, &c.

If the rain thro' the roof his garret floor
wets.                           (forgets ;
In his bed, snoring snuggly, the rain he
In bleak, cold November, when it hails
and snows,
If the fire goes out his fingers he blows,
And he laughs, and he sings, &c.