'Tis politics now is the fashion As sets folks about by the ear. And slops makes the poorest of lushing, No zinging for me wi'out beer. I reckon the days be departed For such jolly gaffers as I, Folks never will be so light-hearted As they was in the days that's gone by. CHORUS: As they was in the days that's gone by. 5 O Lor! what wi' their edication, And me--neither cypher nor write; But in zinging the best in the nation And give the whole parish delight. I be going, I reckon, full mellow To lay in the Churchyard my head; So say--God be wi' you, old fellow! The last o' the Zingers is dead. CHORUS: The last o' the Zingers is dead. No. 29 THE TYTHE PIG C.J.S. [Music] 1 All you that love a bit of fun, come listen here awhile, I'll tell you of a droll affair, will cause you all to smile. The Parson dress'd, all in his best, Cock'd hat and bushy wig, He went into a farmer's house, to choose a sucking pig. Good morning, said the Parson; good morning, sir, to you! I'm come to take a sucking pig, a pig that is my due. 2 Then went the farmer to the stye, amongst the piglings small, He chose the very wee-est pig, the wee-est of them all; But when the Parson saw the choice, How he did stamp and roar! He snorted loud, he shook his wig, he almost-cursed and swore. Good morning &c. 3 O then out spake the Farmer, Since my offer you refuse Pray step into the stye yourself, that you may pick and choose. So to the stye the Priest did hie, And there without ado, The old sow ran with open mouth, and grunting at him flew. Good morning &c. 4 She caught him by the breeches black, that loudly he did cry O help me! help me from the sow! or surely I shall die. The little pigs his waistcoat tore, His stockings and his shoes, The Farmer said, with bow and smile, You're welcome, sir, to choose. Good morning &c. 5 Away the Parson scamper'd home, as fast as he could run, His wife was standing at the door, expecting his return, But when she saw him in such plight She fainted clean away, Alas! alas! the Parson said, I bitter rue this day. Good morning &c. 6 Go fetch me down a suit of clothes, a sponge and soap, I pray, And bring me, too, my greasy wig, and rub me down with hay. Another time, I won't be nice, When a gathering my dues; Another time in sucking pigs, I will not pick and choose. Good morning, said the Parson, good morning, sirs, to you, I will not pick a sucking pig--I leave the choice to you. No. 30 OLD WICHET C.J.S. [Music] 1