THE GREAT EXHIBITION; OR, PRINCE ALBERT'S CURIOSITY SHOP.

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An entirely new comic song, written and sung by Mr. Burford, at the Theatre, Whitby, on the occasion of the Foresters' bespeak, and since received every evening with great applause.

I am a native of fair Dublin city,
To Whitby I've come for a spree;
I've been up to London to visit
The Great Crystal Palace, d'ye see:
For there's wonders one top of the other,
In that wonderful place to be seen,
Faith the brains of a saint it would bother,
To know what the government mean.
You may talk of your fancy bazaars,
If you're passing Hyde Park only stop;
Faith it's there that you'll stare with surprise,
At Prince Albert's Curiosity Shop.
For the first day the charge is a guinea,
For those that have guineas to pay,
But I dont think I'll be such a ninny
As throw my good money away;
On the next day the charge is five shillings,
But the queen wont be there I'll be bound,
For altho' she's got plenty of money
She'll not like to part with her crown.
You may talk, &c.
I'll sing you of some of the wonders,
I hear has been sent from this town:
Of life boats I'm sure there is plenty,
And not one of which will go down.
There's Smales, Swallow, Baker, and Slater,
Have studied upon their own scale,
But the one that should weather all storms,
Is that which was made by a Gale.
You may talk, &c.
There's a genius to make weather merry—
Merryweather's the genius I mean;
Foul and fair be his studies together,
Ere long his success will be seen.
At Staithes' they say there's a man too,
Has made a rat trap goes on springs;
And another a new reefing jacket,
Provided with cast metal wings.
You may talk, &c.
No doubt but you've heard of St Hilda,
That wonderful Saint long ago,
She cut all the heads off the serpents,
With her wonderful sword at a blow.
The petrified sword has been found too,
To the Great Exhibition it's gone,
For no doubt there'll be plenty of serpents
From all parts to visit the town.
You may talk, &c.
I've got some fresh news for your seamen
To keep up your hearts my good lads,
For there's vessels to sail out of Whitby,
In which you'll be sure of your brads.
I've been watching the vessels that's passing,
That justice to seamen allows,
And so you'll be sure of your wages
For they've got £4 10s. on their bows.
You may talk, &c.
May every success attend Whitby,
May the star of prosperity shine
On your labours to prove your industry,
May it gain for your town a good name;
May misfortune's clouds never lower
On either your commerce or trade;
May your seamen gain all they desire,
And stick to the terms they have made.
You may talk, &c.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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