Oh! Chelmsford, you use the poor man ill, Starve us all, I’m sure you will, If they should pass your infamous Bill, And stop all Sunday trading. Tho’ the swells they may blow out their kites, On jellies and tarts, and all things nice, For the poor to live it is not right, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. With watercresses they must not go round, Nor with winkles or shrimps to earn a brown, Or else you will get fined a crown, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. No cat must mew, no dog must bark, They’ll stop the warbling of the lark, And drive them all bang out of the parks, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. The poor may buy potatoes and greens, That is if they have got the means, But no coals to cook them, though strange it seems, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. The nobs may call at the pastry shops And with all sorts of dainties cram their chops, But the poor must not buy a lollipop, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. You must not take, at least, they say, A dose of salts on Saturday, Lest they should work on the Sabbath day, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. If on Sunday you feel inclined to eat, You can buy both bread and meat, But no tea or sugar,--what a treat! Says the Bill on Sunday trading But to wash it down, Lord Chelmsford say, To the gin shop you can cut away And get blind drunk upon that day, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. And by and bye, if you have got the tin, sir, To raise a baked joint for your dinner, They’ll say, drop that dish, you hungry sinner, Don’t you know it’s Sunday trading? If your wife should be in the family-way, She must not be confined upon Sunday, But put it off till another day, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. No milkman through his rounds must go, With milk, my pretty maids, below! Without paying a crown,--the Lords say so, In the Bill on Sunday trading. Even the kittens must not play, Nor frisk about upon that day, Or their grub will be stopped for three whole days, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. No shoeblack, he must not dare to say, Polish your boots upon Sunday, Or else a dollar he will have to pay, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. And if you want to enjoy your pipe, Where would you get a box of lights, For the sellers they will be put to flight, Says the Bill on Sunday trading. No Yarmouth bloaters must be sold, Nor peppermint drops for coughs or colds, And muffin man’s bell it’s clapper must hold, Says the Bill on Sunday trading.