A NEW SONG ON THE
   TAKEING DOWN OF THE IRISH SENCIS

Good people pay atention and listen to my song
Till I sing for you a verse or two I will not keep you long
When your ear my ditty I am sure you will say the same
Believe me its true both rich & poor will have to call their names

                     CHORUS—

So the circulation papers both in country & in town
To tell the stock of Ireland or is she comeing down
They want to know the length & braith of your face & nose
And you'd have to find a name for every nail that's your bronger
They went to know the cripples name & how he got the hurt
And the name of every dandy that wears a paper collar & no shurt,
The want to know the name of your bellews & your broom
And then ame of every article that you have in your room
And they must know your fathers name with barbers cleark & snobs
And the name of your old granneys pipe that lies soon the hob
Tho former he must tell the names of his horses & his cows
And they'l have to kaow the names of your harrow & your plough
The baker he must tell his name & lrow long had he been wed
And how often did he grind up to rotten spuds to stuff his bread
The dwnbroker must tell the names of his tdree big yellow balls
You know he proves an uncle to all who on him calls
The grocer too roast tell his name & that without delay
Or does he dry the slee leaves up to sell them for good tea
You have to tell the name of your doe likewise your eat
And they must know the grunters name & is he very fat
They must know your donkeys dame & do you drive him kind
You must keep good brouges upon him or be double throble find
The printers now must tell his name that does print all the songs
The laidies too must tell their names that wears the big shignaurs,
I very devil must tell his name or is he a good scholar
They do not care a pin for his must or half penny collar
The doctor he must tell his name & now he sells his pills
The counter jumpe s names als & do the pick the hills
All butchers too must tell their names A they'r at a loss
And the very plac believ its tro Wher they bonght the cheapest loss
They wont put down a drunken so his name to be saint
Nor they wont put down a blind mans wife if she try the of paint
All ragmen now must tell their names if they will find frost
Or do they lift old silver spons before they can be lost
The cook shop keepers now I say they'l have to tell she fault;
And their names without delay & how they sell their broth
The Mistress of each lodging hense must seeks clean shoes &
And burn snfer once a month to murder all the bugs
Now to conclude & finish I hope I am not blame
Nor every thing that's going you havn't find a name
You tell your way of & the crace you have got
You will have to tell the teapts name or does the weares keep it hot

                  P Brereton Printer 55 st Dublin