Oh, fie! naughty people! how could you thus thwart
The poor man's intentions and frustrate his plan?
Indeed, its enough e'en to break his poor heart;
So pity his sorrows - the dear Hastings man!
You say that his "Peacocks" have very fine feathers,
That look very gay in a "Castle" divan,
But as they don't do it to be out in all weathers,
You bid them go home to their dear Hastings man.
You say he has filched all the best of the trade
What of that? He's a right to get all that he can!
And though by your help he a fortune has made
I cannot but pity, so ancient a man.
His fish'ry, you say, is a golden supply,
Get claim you a share of his tar and his tan;
But, please bear in mind he allows you to buy,
All the fish he can spare - does the kind-hearted man.
His cod'roy and fustian, you say, yields him profit,
So doth his blue jacket and rustic "ban-yan";
But compared with your purple, there's little comes of it;
Then give all you can to the poor Hastings man.
His shoe-clubs and clothes-clubs are many 'tis true,
Possessed he of some ere St. Leonards began;
With him spend your tickets - if red, white or blue,
And have none in return from the poor Hastings man.
You taunt him with having a building that's fit,
For the sale of his edibles - meat, fruit and bran;
That's no cause for quarrel; each pay-day, to wit,
You go there in crowds, and surround the poor man,
You say the Town Hall, where the wiseacres' meet
Belongs to himself, yet he grams all the corn,
While no civic mansion adornmetts your street,
And you call him a covetous, greedy old man.
His two-thirds of Councillors legislate there,
And as you have lately come under their fan,
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