The factory folks are next in view, Spinners, weavers, and carders too, The piecers do not lag behind, Brickmakers at the Guild we find, Bricksetters, masons two and two, To see them walking in a row, The men who houses and factories build, You’ll see them walk at Preston Guild. When at the Guild you do arrive, Like bees they’re swarming all alive, All kinds of trades are working still, You’ll see, now you’re at Preston Guild. There’s swinging boxes, likewise shows, And soldiers ’listing drunken fools, Both drunkards and teetotallers will, Enjoy a peep at Preston Guild. Its toss or buy for cakes or nuts, Sweet meats or ORMSKIRK, stuff your guts, Or take a trow at civil will, Now lads you’ve come to Preston Guild, Or see the sports that’s up and down, At Preston Guild in Preston town, Two shillings a bed pay with good will, If you stop one night at Preston Guild. The times are hard, the wages low, Some thousands to the Guild can’t go, From Blackburn, Burnley, and Chorley still, They will roll on to Preston Guild, From Wigan, Bolton, Lancaster, From Liverpool and Manchester, The Railroad brings them on it still, To see the fun at Preston Guild. So young and old I’ll tell you true, It’s different now since twenty-two, The men did labour with good will, It’s not so now this Preston Guild. But let us hope the times will mend, When the poor man can the poor befriend, We want our rights and then we will, Have plenty of sport next Preston Guild. PROPHECY FOR 1850-------- John Harkness, Printer, Church St.;--Office, North Road, Preston. Now Christmas it is gone and past, throughout the British nation, Come list to me and you will see a wonderful alteration; In the new year there will appear, or I may cause a blunder, Some curious changes that will fill you with amaze and wonder. CHORUS. So listen to me of all degree, both single, wise, and thrifty, While I prophecy what you will see, in eighteen hundred and fifty. The Queen will have another son, he will be a steam-loom weaver, And Prince Albert he is going to be a wopping big coal-heaver; Old Wellington as I’ve heard say, with his great whacking nose, sir, With a donkey cart is going out a gathering old clothes, sir. Russell and Grey, as I’ve heard say, are going to be sailors, And Bobby Peel will make, of steel, new thimbles for the tailors; Cobden and Bright will have a fight, and conquer in dirch man, Without protection, in a crack, knock down the Duke of Richmond. The muck carts they will go by steam, no horses will be wanted, We will have four pound loaves for threepence each, then we shall be undaunted, Girls must new fashioned whiskers wear, fine lawns they must adorn her, Their stockings must be made of gold brought home from California.