THE Northumberland Miners' U-ni-on
Have bidden their BURT bego-o-one.
It seems, by the ballot, we soon shall be all out,
And there'll be an end to our fun.
[Illustration]
_Chorus._--We've got no work to do-o-o-o!
We have no work to do-o-o!
We are poor Members, poor Working-Men Members,
Who've got no work to do!
Oh, Morpeth and Wansbeck, o-o-oh!
This same is a pretty go-o-o!
The feelings why hurt of your FENWICK and BURT?
We wouldn't have served _you_ so!
_Chorus._--We've got no work, &c.
The Working-Men's Members of la-a-ate
Were getting a power in the Sta-a-ate,
But now they're rejected, or coldly ejected,
Which same is a sorrowful fate.
_Chorus._--We've got no work, &c.
JOE ARCH he had to go-o-o-o,
Then LEICESTER, the other JO-O-OE!
And now we two'll have to forfeit our "screw,"
Which is jolly hard lines, you know.
_Chorus._--We've got no work, &c.
It's hardly fair play to gi-i-ive,
To a Labour-Representati-i-ve,
For without your cash, O Miners most rash,
How, how shall we manage to live?
_Chorus._--We've got no work, &c.
It is no doubt exceedingly tru-u-ue;
We've found little work to do-o-o,
In the House. For that same 'tis not _we_ who're to blame,
But the long Irish hullaballo.
_Chorus._--We've got no work, &c.
We know these are very hard ti-i-imes,
To scrape up the dollars and di-i-imes;
But when _we_, dear Miners, are robbed of the shiners,
We're punished for other folks' crimes.
_Chorus._--We've got no work, &c.
Of course if you give us the sa-a-ack,
Our Gladstone bags we must pa-a-ack,
But perhaps for this hurry some day you'll be sorry,
And wish BURT and FENWICK both back.
_Chorus._--We've got no work to do-o-o-o!
We're ballotted out of our scre-e-ew;
Poor Working Men's Members, this worst of Septembers,
In sorrow we sigh and boho-o-o!
THE 'EAT OF DISCUSSION.
(_A Fancy founded on Facts._)
HE left the court with his colleagues at twenty minutes to one o'clock.
He said nothing, but listened intently while the question of the Inquest
was canvassed. Was it to be a verdict of Manslaughter or Murder, or only
Accidental Death? He listened so intently that he was quite surprised
when the clock struck two.
Yes two o'clock--time for his lunch!
He rose from his seat, and went to the door. He spoke to one on the
other side, he talked of cuts from the joints, and chops and steaks.
He was answered with laughter!
Then he returned to his chair, rather put out at this ill-timed
pleasantry, and listened once more to the arguments of his colleagues.
They had got beyond the verdict now, and were discussing the "riders."
The first, elaborately blaming the Magistrates, had been framed and
passed, and the second dealing with the bye-laws of the Town Council was
under consideration. Before it was finally settled the clock struck
three!
Yes, three! and since twenty-minutes to one he had been locked in
lunchless! He went to the door and beat it with his fists!
"Might he have a cut off the joint?"
"No!"
Again he was silent, and again his colleagues continued their
discussion. They spoke in lower tones now, because they too were feeling
the want of food. Four struck, and then five.
He staggered once more to the door, and in piteous tones made a last
request,
Might he have a sandwich?
No!!!!!
It was too much! He ground his teeth in rage! Five hours had elapsed,
and then the last and eighth rider, suggesting that after its final
completion a theatre should be thrown open for public inspection for a
week before a licence was granted, was passed. The work of the Jury was
over.
It was indeed a painful scene. The eleven men who had taken part in the
discussion were entirely exhausted. Some were slumbering from weakness,
others were wearily "talking on their fingers." Hunger had made these
last absolutely dumb. Reams of papers were scattered about covered with
writing. Here and there was a quill-pen partly consumed. Even the
blotting-pads testified to the presence of hungry men--some of the
leaves showed the traces of a stealthy nibble. In the heat of argument
hours before, a juryman, anxious to impress an opinion upon a sceptic
colleague, had offered to "eat his hat." He now gazed at the head-gear
with greedy eyes, as if anxious to carry out his proposition.
The Foreman, in a whisper, asked if anyone had any further suggestions
to make.
Then the rage of the starving one gave him fictitious strength. He stood
up, and shrieked out, "I express my opinion that the non-supply of
refreshments to the Jury for several hours is a blot on the legal system
of the country!"
In a moment the Foreman and his colleagues sprang to their feet, and,
making a supreme effort, shouted out, "Agreed! agreed! agreed!"
And what further did these poor famished men, these heroes of the long,
foodless day, these martyrs to a cruel system--a wretched system--these
victims to an abuse that should be swept away like chaff before the
wind--ay, what farther did they do after their trumpet-tongued cry of
indignant denunciation?
Why (it is to be sincerely hoped) that they went home and had their
dinner!