Classic Poem

The summer was over, the season unkind,
In harvest a snow how uncommon to find;
The times were oppressive, and well it be known
That hunger will strongest of fences break down.

'Twas then from their cells the black gentry stepped out
With bludgeons, determined to stir up a rout;
The prince of the party, who revelled from home,
Was a terrible fellow, and called Irish Tom.

He brandished his bludgeon with dexterous skill
And close to his elbow was placed Barley Will.
Instantly followed a numerous train,
Cheerful as bold Robin Hood's merry men.

Sworn to remedy a capital fault
And bring down the exorbitant price of the malt,
From Dudley to Walsall they trip it along
And Hampton was truly alarmed at the throng.

Women and children, wherever they go,
Shouting out, ‘Oh the brave Dudley boys, O’;
Nailers and spinners the cavalcade join,
The markets to lower their flattering design.

Six days out of seven poor nailing boys get
Little else at their meals but potatoes to eat;
For bread hard they labour, good things never carve,
And swore 'twere as well to be hanged as to starve.

Such are the feelings in every land,
Nothing Necessity's call can withstand;
And riots are certain to sadden the year
When sixpenny loaves but three-pounders appear.