“I’m tired of walking,” an old maid did cry, “I’ve walk’d to the market a goose for to buy: And poulterer be sure that you give me, I pray; The best of your gooses for Michaelmas day!” Then a thief ran by, and straight began, To finger the goose, and away he ran: And he the poulterer out loud did call, “Oh! I’ve lost the best goose in all Leadenhall!” Oh! my Michaelmas goose, &c. They sought it that hour, they sought it all day, They sought it in vain till the night passed away! “The cleanest――the dirtiest――the filthiest spot, The old maid sought wildly but found it not; At length, as onward she did roam, She looked far the goose all the way she went home; When the old maid appeared, oh! the children did cry, “Twig the old woman that went a large goose to buy!” Oh! the Michaelmas goose, &c. The thief was caught at morning’s light, They searched his pockets, when oh; what a sight; For a bit of a goose lay hidden there, In the breeches pocket, the thief did wear: The thief laugh’d aloud, and swore it was fun; To the Beak who heard how the trick was done, Who decided against him, so now laugh your fill! For three months he was sent to step at the mill. All through prigging a goose, Oh! the Michaelmas goose. ―――― THE VORKHOUSE BOY. The cloth vos laid in the Vorkhouse hall, And the greatcoats hung on the vhite-vashed vall; The paupers all were blithe and gay, Keeping their Christmas holiday; Vhen the master he cried, with a roguish leer, You’ll all get fat on your Christmas cheer; And one by his looks he seemed to say, I’ll have more soup on this Christmas day. Oh, the poor Vorkhouse boy, &c. At length all of us to bed vos sent, The boy vos missing in search ve vent; Ve sought him above, ve sought him below, Ve sought him with faces of grief and voe: Ve sought him that hour, ve sought him that night, Ve sought him in fear, and ve sought him in fright, Vhen a young pauper cried “I know ve shall Get jolly vell vopt for losing our pall.” Oh, the poor vorkhouse boy, &c. Ve sought in each corner, each crevice ve knew, Ve sought down the yard, and ve sought up the flue; Ve sought in each saucepan, each kettle each pot, In the vorter butt looked, but found him not; And veeks rolled on, ve vere all of us told, That somebody said he’d been burked and sold; Vhen our master goes out the parishioners vild, Cries, “there goes the cove that burked the poor child.” Oh, the poor vorkhouse boy, &c.