When things do change you ne’er do know what next is sure to follow, For mark the change in Broughton now, of late ’twas but a hollow For they have found it so snug, and chang’d its etymology, They have clapt in it a wild beast’s show, now call’d the Gardens of Zoology. A market on Shudehill was, and it remains there still, sir, The Salford old bridge is taken away, and clapt a new one in, sir, There’s Newton lane I now shall name, has had an alteration, They’ve knock’d a great part of it down, to make a railway station. There’s the Bolton railway station in Salford, give attention, Besides many more too numerous to mention; Besides a new Police, to put the old ones down stairs, sir, A mayor and corporation to govern this old town, sir. There’s the Manchester and Salford old bridge, that long has stood, the weather, Because it was so very old they drown’d it altogether; And Brown street market too, it forms part of this sonnet, Down it must come, they say, to build a borough gaol upon it. Not long ago if you had taken a walk thro’ Stevenson’s square, sir, You might have seen, if you look’d, a kind of chapel there, sir, And yet this place, some people thought, had better to come down, sir, And in the parson’s place they put a pantaloon and clown, sir. In former times our cotton swells were not half so mighty found, sir, But in these modern times they everywhere abound, sir, With now police and watchmen, to break peace there’s none dare And at every step the ladies go, policemen will cry, move on there’. In former days this good old town was guarded from the prigs, sir, By day constables, by night by watchmen with Welsh wigs, sir; But things are alter’d very much, for all those who are scholars, May tell the new policemen by their numbers on their collars. A NEW SONG ON THE PRESTON GUILD, 1842. J. Harkness, Printer, 121, Church Street, Preston. You lads and lasses far and near, Unto my song pray lend an ear, The time is come for mirth and glee, To Preston Guild let’s haste away, For Tom and Sal with Jim and Peg, And daddy with his wooden leg, And grunting Jack with Sam and Will, Are all gone off to Preston Guild. There lords and ladies, Kings and Queens, At Preston Guild they may be seen, Yes, Merchants, Tradesmen,--a grand show, With ladies walking in a row; And then the trades they do appear, By gum it makes one feel quite queer, Some walking,--others standing still, This is the fun at Preston Guild. The tailors they lead up the van, With Adam and Eve they look so grand, Then Robin Hood’s men and gardeners, Who represent Mars the God of Wars, Shopkeepers, Publicans so free, Will follow up for liberty, The grandest show in England still, Is the jublilee at Preston Guild.