Now let us hope we soon shall see, The masters and the men agree, For fair play is the style for me, With all classes, as well as the tailors. If they don’t go in, I do declare, We soon shall have no breeches to wear, But that my friend is only a joke, So, if I offend, I am sorry I spoke. We all for the biggest shilling fight, And I think you will own that I am right, But jolly good luck I say, blow me tight, To the whole of the Journeymen Tailors. H. Disley, Printer, 57, High street, St. Giles. WONDERFUL MR. SPURGEON. [Illustration] Oh! there is such a wonderful man, Just listen to my sequel, I’m sure throughout the British land There never was his equal. He’s such a chap to preach and teach, Father, mother, son, and daughter, And for to hear this wonderful man They run from every quarter. This wonderful man surprises the land, Parson, lawyer, snob, and surgeon, From every place they run a race, To the wonderful man call’d Spurgeon. He can please the duke, the lord, & squire And ladies with gold lockets, He can make the very sovereigns jump Out of old women’s pockets. He can look above, and look below, And deeply groan, and sigh, ah! He can shake the rocks and swallow the whale He’s a greater man than Jonah. Oh, such a sermon he can preach, And the congregation harras, He has a tabernacle twice As big as the Crystal Palace. He can make a Bishop jump Jim Crow, Turn a peeler into a carter, He can make a parson’s daughter jump Right bang out of her garters. He can shake the damsels’ crinoline, And cure a cobbler’s sore throat; He bangs the country east and west, And licks Johanna Southgate. There never was since Sampson lived, A man on earth to match him; Spurgeon is an out and outer, lads, To act the game of cadging. If Spurgeon went into St. Paul’s, I’m sure he’d not dissemble, His voice would make the dome to rise, And St. Paul’s church for to tremble. And what do you think he does it for? Why, for money, I supposes; Some say Spurgeon is a greater man, Than Soloman or Moses. Oh, can’t he spin a tidy yarn, And trick the ladies handsome, He makes you think he’s twice as strong As that old covey Sampson. They’ll say by and bye that he can fly, To kingdom come, and stop there, Dance a hornpipe in the clouds, And jump to Ballinahoker. Punch says he is a wonderful man, And causes many a row, sirs, Oh, can’t he make the joey’s fly From the pockets of your trousers, And when not vexed, he gives the text, He alarms the congregation; A better beggar can’t be found, All over this great nation.