CHORUS.

THE
Roguish Baker:
Oh ! is no there a g rand flare u p ?
I n country and town,
About those Corn League Bakers,
Hot rolls blue, black, and brown ;
W i t h their puff away both night and day,
Bones, Allum-dust, and starch,
Their Home Baked Bread & lumps of dough
Will cheer your drooping hearts,
CHORUS.
W i t h their puff away, cheat away,
Such doings there was never,
All the Bakers are, mark what I say,
A set of rogues together !
To see them in their Livery, with
Their carts and vans so smart,
W h i l e the ladies through the Baker's shop,
Look like a cup of starch,
E i g h t pence a loaf, Oh ! what a treat,
I t is we mry be sure ;
There is always something starting fresh,
To benefit the poor !
A Grocer pawned his wife's best gown,
T o buy a quarten loaf,
And he swore he in the middle found—
A half a yard of soap,
H i s lady said as he'd a loaf,
W h y she would have one too.
And when she cut the loaf, she found
The heel of a Dustman's shoe.
At the new bread shops, in droves they stop,
Y o u scarcely can get nigh,
I t is my turn next, a dandy cried,
W h e n b a n g in his left eye,
There came a great big lump of dough,
W h i c h knocked him far away,
I t killed him dead an there he lay
A fortnight and a day.
Sir Robert Peel bought two peck loaves,
And sent for all hosts,
And told his Lady for to make,
A stunning lot of toast,
She cut off just eleven rounds,
And sung " all round my h a t , "
W h e n Bobby hollowed blood an ouna !
See, there's the tail of a rat.
Then old King Nosey bought a loaf,
And said the bread would fall,
He swore 'twas made of pipe clay,
And red-hot cannon halls,
HOW he did hollow, rave, and swear,
And kick about his brogues—
And by the point of his bayonet swore
The Bakers were all rogues.
Queen Victoria foa some flour sent,
TO the League Bread Company,
TO make a little pancake for
The Prince of Wales' tea,
Out of the pan, with her sweet hand,
She pulled a piece af cabbage,
and the Prince of Wales found in his cake,
The end of a German Sausage.
You would laugh untill your sides did ache,
TO see all sorts of folks,
Gazing at the New Bread Shops,
Indeed it is a joke,
The Bakers and Bread Company,
May strive their sins to smother,
Of rogues, I think there's six of one,
and half a dozen of t'other.
C. P a u l , Printer, 18, Great Saint Andrew
Street, Broad Street, Bloomsbury, and sold
b y J. Morgan, 4 6 , B r i c k Lane, Spitalfields