POETRY.
THE WORKING-MAN'S PROGRAMME.
THERE once was a Common near me,
And I managed to keep a cow ; And the milk it fed the childern, But I cannot keep it now.
They have taken away our Commons, Nor left us a blade o' green ; And there's nowt but grate folks' places, Wi' hedges and walls between.
And the childem are white and sickly ; They say it's the kind o' food ;
For bread and tea for a growing childā
And it's a' they get,ā's no good. Then we used to ha' milk in.plenty, And bacon from off the sow ; But that a' went, when the Commons went, And we ceasit to keep a cow. And little Bessie, my youngest, Who's dead, come May, a year,ā And oh ! but she were a darling, Wi' her long white locks ; oh dear! And the milk it was a' she wanted, But I could not get it nohow ; For the farmers send theirs to Lunnun, And the poor have never a cow.
They tell us as wages is risen ; Them Unions giv' it a shove ; But it isn't wages yer want at all, It's summat your heart can love.
And so I get allays a drinking Up there at the Barley Mow ; For I say, what's the use o' savini, When yer've got neither land nor cow?
Now I'll tell you one o' my notions ; Yer Members o' Parliament there, It's mighty little yer've done for me, For a' that yer talk so fair.
So Pll voate for none o' your talkers, But I'll find me a man, I vow,
Who'll help meāI doant want moneyā
To get both land and cow. B.
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