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The British Peasant On The Rt. Hon. J. Lowther's Proposition,

A Farthing a week! why, that's nowt, to be sure,
In no way could it better be spent,
A Farthing a week from each house of the poor,
To add to the landowner's rent.

Poor fellows! their rentals have fallen of late;
No wonder they're downcast and flat,
When we think of their low and unfortunate state,
It is right they should send round the hat.

How foolish were Cobden, and Villiers, and Bright,
As they fought in their famous career;
They declared that cheap bread was a boon and a right,
Now, we know that it ought to be dear.

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There's Lawson declares that too freely we drink
Of the liquor which most hold so sweet,
But it's perfectly clear to all statesmen who think,
That we really have too much to eat.

Thank God that such statesmen we've still in the land;
"Fair Traders," and all of that brood;
Men of light and of leading, who quite understand
That we suffer from too much of food.

Then we'll pay our fresh farthings on bread that's made dear,
Of sound policy still we're the aiders;
And each British peasant will heartily cheer
The kind and sagacious "Fair Traders."

Oh! Life will be all milk and honey,
How sweetly the moments will fleet,
When the landlords shall get all the money,
And we shall get nothing to eat.