Ye working men both far and near, Unto my song pray lend an ear, While I the wonders do declare, About this famine fasting day, The Bishop of London that godly saint, Who preaches in the Parliament, He said it was their full intent For to have a fast day, He told the Parliament he’d a call, For to come and tell them all, The Devil would fetch them great and small, Unless they kept a fast day. CHORUS. Singing higlety pickelty fast who will, I wish poor folk it’s had their fill, Good beef and pudding the famine to kill, Much better than a fast day. Some of them laugh’d, some fell asleep, And out of the house some did creep; To please the Bishops and black sheep, They did appoint a fast day, The twenty-fourth of March it was the day That some did fast and some did pray, Some made a feast as I’ve heard say, To drive this famine far away, I sent our Nell as I’m a sinner, To get some liver and bacon for dinner, We fasted so long we are quite thinner, We thought we’d have a feast day. To walk about that day in the street, Thousands of poor folk I did meet, Because they had got nothing to eat, And so they kept the fast day. Some who had money spent it free, While others had a jovial spree, Some pawned off their smocks they say, All for to get a dinner that day, Some went to the alehouse it is true, Got drunk and fought till all was blue; On Saturday night thousands will rue The general famine fast day. The Bishops and the Parsons too, They seldom fast I tell to you, Their paunches they well stuff it’s true, Yet preach about a fast day, With fish and eggs, and Rhenish wine, On turtle soup each day they dine, Till their guts are poking out like swine, As though it was their last day, But if poor folks like them could live, Or if good wages they did receive, The storms of life they then could brave Without this famine fast day. So to conclude my fast day song, Pray do not think I’ve kept you long, But whether it be right or wrong I’d rather have a feast day, But if a fast would drive this famine away, I’ve only got one thing to say, I wish it would drive poverty Into the middle of the sea, The Parsons and Bishops are afraid, Church and tithes cannot be paid, And except they learn some other trade They will have many a fast day. John Harkness, Printer, 121, Church Street, Preston. NEW FORM OF PRAYER AND BELIEF.