That the heart's warmest throb, or affection's fond tear
Are as naught to four hundred and fifty a year;
Through the ocean of life no fond couple can steer,
Save the freight is four hundred and fifty a year.
Now I rather imagine a woman's heart dear,
That is bought by four hundred and fifty a year;
Possessors of incomes, I pray you don't see her,
Or God help your four hundred and fifty a year.
Yet, faith! I'll be candid, take courage; draw near—
She's well worth four hundred and fifty a year;
I love her myself, but I cannot tell where
To get hold of four hundred and fifty a year.
So my chance is over, as things now appear,
And all through four hundred and fifty a year!
Still heaven await her; tho' mind you, up there
They heed not four hundreds and fifties a year!
Additional Verse to the National Anthem.
And when in Freedom’s cause
England’s bright Sword she draws,
O grant Thine aid;
On each dread battle field
Make her proud foemen yield;
Be thou her help and shield:
God save the Queen.
Printed by Bembose & Sons, Derby.
