Modern Street Ballads


The Turkish War, both near and far,
Has played the very deuce then,
And little AL, the royal pal,
They say, he has turned a Russian;
Old Aberdeen, as may be seen,
Looks woeful pale and yellow,
And Old John Bull has his belly full
Of dirty Russian Tallow.

We’ll send him home and make him groan,
Oh, AL, you’ve played the deuce then,
The German lad has acted sad,
And turned tail with the Russian.

When AL came here, you’re all aware,
He brought with him no riches,
He had scarce a rag upon his back,
And great holes in his breeches;
Oh, England on him pity took,
And chang’d his sad condition,
And soon he plann’d, you understand,
The National Exhibition.

The Cobourgs came from near and far,
With their Dispatches, all dirt,
A begging for the Russian Bear,
To blooming lovely Albert,
To keep old Nick, the devil’s limb,
And on to Turkey lead him,
To massacre the innocent Turks,
And rob them of their freedom.

Last Monday night, all in a fright,
AL, out of bed did tumble,
The German lad was raving mad,
How he did groan and grumble!
He cried to Vic, I’ll cut my stick,
To Petersburgh, go right slap,
When Vic, ’tis said, jumped out of bed,
And whipp’d him with her night cap.

There, with the bolster round the room,
Vic gave him dreadful lashes,
She scratched his face and broke his nose,
And pull’d out his moustaches.
You German dog, you shall be flogg’d,
She halloed like a Prussian,
How could you dare to interfere
And turn a cursed Russian?

Bad luck they say, both night and day,
To the Coburgs and all humbugs,
The Wirtembugs and Scarem bugs,
And all the German house bugs.
And the old bug of Aberdeen,
The Peterbugs and Prussians,
May Providence protect the Turks,
And massacre the Russians.

You jolly Turks, now go to work,
And show the Bear your power—
It’s rumoured over Britain’s isle,
That A—— is in the Tower,
The Postmen some suspician had,
And openéd two letters,
’Twas pity sad, the German lad,
Should not have known much better.

Well, now, my friends, to made an end,
From tyrants guard your own coast,
I’ll tell you what ‘tween you and I,
The Tower-ditch and the gate post:
I think that AL has been used well,
Since first he came to England,
And had no cause to obstruct the laws,
Or in politics be mingling.

Let France and England set to work,
Shun Austrians and Prussians,
Assist the poor and injured Turks,
And smother all the Russians.
Chain up the Bear, and make him stare,
And so I take my Davy,
We’ll sing Old England, three times three,
The Army and the Navy.

I tell thee AL, we never shall,
Although you play’d the deuce then,
Allow the Turks to be run down,
By the dirty, greasy Russian.

* Prince Albert was at one time very unpopular in England. His advising the Queen, and consequent intimate and personal knowledge of all that was going on during the Russian war, coupled with the fact that he was a foreigner, led the unthinking to believe that he was secretly helping Russia—a report of which he seems to have been very well aware(vide Sir T. Martin’s “Life of the Prince Consort,” vol. iii. p. 219, March, 1855). I recollect very well the rumour that he had been imprisoned in the Tower, and a comic paper had an engraving of two cabmen meeting, and one saying to the other, “Have yer ‘eard the noose? Vhy, Prince Halbert along with two other Commander-in-Chiefs have been sent to the Tower; which Lewis Napoleon diwulged ‘em a sending of five pound notes to the Emperor of Rooshia, and so he blowed the gaff” (told of them).

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