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	Jubilee		by Matty Tate

	What a work I ween To honour the Queen And to welcome her Jubilee In prose and in verse Men sing till they’re hoarse And kindly ask you to dip in your purse For Victoria, queen of the sea What a bustle and stir To the farthest shore That’s swept by the foamy waves The black and the white Are jubilant quite They shout and they sing with a strong man’s might We cannot and will not be slaves Yet the stronger they crush To the very last push The weak and the poor down And tell him he must Live in hope and in trust And blindly work while they lie and rust And bid him respect the Crown We could be more loyal With a share of the soil We labour so hard to till ’Tis a grim mockery To the extent that we Shall doff the cap, or yet bend the knee With a fair and free goodwill When, Oh! narrow the gulf ’Twixt the poor and the wolf That’s ever their doors a nigh Though they labour away From day to day Instead of rejoicing, methinks that they May look in their cupboards and sigh Why waste we our means Over Kings and Queens Though ever so good they may be? Let the Duke and the Peer With their thousands a year Rejoice if they like, but Oh dear, Oh dear Save the poor from this Jubilee

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