The Cattle Show

No! I'm not in the least democratic,I object to a mob and a crush,My tastes are too aristocratic,My way through a crowd to push.So when to the cattle I take my way,It's either a crown or a half-crown day!

On the high-priced days c'est une autreChose tout à fait, if you pleaseThen the place is quite filled with les notres,With the people one everywhere sees,Who, like myself, much prefer to payTo see the show on half-crown day.

I in toto object to the "people,"They are always so shockingly rudeE'en on men on society's steepleTheir sad vulgar marks they'll intrude.So you cannot wonder I'd rather payTo see the show on half-crown day.

Need I say that we don't care a buttonFor the beasts in which farmers delight;As long as the sheep turn to mutton,And the oxen to beef, why it's right!To see and be seen is for what we payAt Islington on the half-crown day.

What to us are the tools used for farmingFor our tenants they're all very well;But there really cannot be a charm inSuch things to the genuine swell.And that being the case I prefer to payTo see the show on half-crown day.

Pushing, crushing, panting, squeezing,Fat-faced farmers left and right;Round the beasts scarce room for sneezing,Each one struggling for a sight.That's the style, we like a mob,And we've only paid a bob!

Passing on, we next a visitTo the fatted oxen make;Prime indeed each sleek side is, itMakes us long to cut a steak.Such things are not for the mob,Who have only paid a bob!

Into pigs umbrellas poking,Likewise sticks and parasols,They're too fat to mind such joking,Thoughts of oil-cake fill their souls.They are heedless of the mobWho have only paid a bob!

Then the sheep claim our attention,Southdowns, Devons, Herefords;This a medal's gained, that, mention,Gladness bringing to their lords.What care we? the vulgar mob,Who have only paid a bob!

To the implements for farmingNext we turn, and drawing near,Comes the thought there'd be no harm inHalf a pie and bottled beer.We eat and feel we're of the mobWho have only paid a bob!