We've full a million Servants, and To make their fortune harder, They've fifteen thousand "P'licemen" brave To furnish from the larder; Yet should this number as too great By statists be rejected, We've fourteen thousand Lawyers, so Our purse must be protected! McCulloch well may advocate His schemes of "Emigration:" Fourteen thousand Lawyers sure _Must_ harm our Population! Of Authors we have thirty score, Besides the present Writer; And forty thousand Butchers, to Employ when things look brighter; We've fifteen hundred Actors, who Our patience try most sadly; Besides the nation's Ministers, And they _act_ just as badly! In such a case, Malthusian plans Must meet with approbation: Of Actors we have certainly An over-Population. [Illustration: OVER POPULATION ] Four thousand Artists, most of whom, When seen in fullest feather, Wear beards, or whiskers, or moustache, Or else all three together; But let the bearded youths beware, Nor, too self-trusting, slumber— Their native foes, the Barbers, like Themselves, four thousand number! Unless in wearing beards we soon Observe an alteration, The Barbers they must clearly be An over-Population! Distillers—we have hundreds seven, To make our men unsteady, And full three thousand Auctioneers To knock them down all ready; We've ninety thousand Blacksmiths, and, Of one the work's a wonder— He forges chains at Gretna Green Which none can break asunder! The last, indeed, may well excite Malthusian consternation— This Blacksmith's work by no means checks The over-Population. We've houses where for half-a-crown One gets a shilling dinner; We've sixty thousand Publicans, And not a single Sinner! At least we can't believe there is, Until we see some _new_ book, For certainly there's no return Contained within the blue book. But tho' the book of Sinners makes As yet no revelation, 'Tis said by some, of these there is An over-Population!