The ladies, Heaven bless 'em all! as sure as I've a nose on, In former times had only thorns and skewers to stick their clothes on; No damsel then was worth a pin, whate'er it might have cost her, Till gentle Johnny Tilsby came, and invented pins in Glo'ster. Your fine cathedral when I saw, tho' much I was delighted, Yet in the whisp'ring gallery I got most sadly frighted; Some question there I asked myself, when not a soul was near me, And suddenly an answer came, as if the walls could hear me. The Severn full of salmon fine enriches low and high land, And then, for more variety, you've got a little island; Of which I've read a Taylor's Tale, a dozen verses long, sirs, And may I go to Old Harry, if it's not a clever song, sirs. George Ridler's oven, I've been told, contains some curious jokes, sirs, And much of it is said by many Glo'ster folks, sirs; But ovens now are serious things, and from my soul I wish, sirs, Your ovens here many ne'er want bread to fill the poor man's dish, sirs. Now if you will but all forgive this slight attempt at rhyme, sirs, I'll promise, like the little boys, to mend another time, sirs; May health, with every blessing, join this company to foster, Till, with your leave, some future time I come again to Glo'ster. GEORGE RIDLER'S OVEN. (_From a Broadside._) The stwons that built George Ridler's oven, And thauy keum from the Bleakeley's Quaar; And George he wur a jolly old mon, And his yead it grawed above his yare. One thing of George Ridler I must commend, And that wur vur a notable theng; He meud his braags avoore he died, Wi' ony dree brothers his zons should zeng. There's Dick the Treble and John the Mean, (Let ev'ry mon zeng in his auwn pleace) And George he wur the elder brother, And therevoore he would zeng the Beass. Mine Hostess' moid (and her neaum 'twur Nell), A pretty wench, and I loved her well; I loved her well, good reazun whoy, Because zhe loved my dog and I. My dog is good to catch a hen, A duck or goose is vood vor men; And where good company I spy, O thether gwoes my dog and I. My mother told I when I wur young, If I did vollow the strong beer pwoot, That drenk would pruv my auverdrow, And meaak me vear the thread bare cwoart. My dog has gotten sich a troick, To visit moids when thoiy be zick; When thoiy be zick and loik to die, O, thether gwoes my dog and I. When I have dree zixpences under my thumb, O, then I be welcome wherever I keum; But when I have none, O then I pass by, 'Tis poverty pearts good company.