From a broadside at the Bodleian Library:


THE TAX ON GIN

1. There's something new starts every day.
Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!
They tax the mutton, bread and beef,
The bacon and the beer.
They tax the poor man's sugar,
His butter, cheese and tea.
They tax the poor, and let the rich
All go along Scot-free.

CHORUS: They tax, tax, tax, tax.
They never will give in.
To starve the poor old women out,
They've taxed the rum and gin.

2. A penny on each quartern!
Oh, what a cursed shame!
That wicked Billy Gladstone
Is carrying on a game.
Why don't he lay a tax upon
His lady's crinoline?
Why don't he tax the nobleman
And double tax the wine?

3. "Oh, crikey!" said old Mary James.
"It is a cursed sin
To keep a poor old woman down
And tax her drop of gin.
A penny every quartern!
I'm sure it can't be right.
They'd better tax old women's teeth,
And then they couldn't bite.

4. "They have rose it at the Feathers,
And at the Hare and Hounds.
They have rose it at the Magpie,
The Thistle, and the Crown.
They have rose it at the Lion,
At the Bull and the Red Cow.
They have rose it at the Harrow,
And likewise at the Plough.

5. "They have rose it at the Nelson,
The Bottle and the Cork.
They have rose it at the Wellington
And at the Duke of York.
They have rose it at the Albert,
The Marlborough and Lord Howe.
They've rose it at the Prince of Wales,
And at the Barley-Mow.

6. "Oh, taxing Billy Gladstone,
We wish that you had got
The butt end of a rifle
Sticking in your throat.
Why don't you tax our petticoats
And make us look forlorn?
Why don't you lay a tax upon
Every little kid that's born?

7. "Why don't you tax our shirts,
Our crinolines and caps?
Why don't you tax the baked sheep's heads,
The pickle eels and sprats?
Why don't you tax the ringlets
Round the ladies' pretty heads,
And tax the china jerry
Standing underneath the bed?

8. "Why don't you tax the frying pan?
Why don't you tax the spoon?
Why don't you tax the washing tub,
The teapot and the broom?
Why don't you tax the poker?
Why don't you tax the knife,
And double tax the rogue who lifts
A finger to his wife?

9. "Oh, Billy, Billy Gladstone,
May you in the river jump,
And have nothing stronger
Than the running at the pump.
May you fall down like a donkey,
And a ditch be tumbled in.
What right had you at all to tax
The poor old woman's gin?

10. "May you always have the toothache,
All we poor old women say.
May your wife rise up one morn
And with her footman run away.
May you never sleep for a fortnight,
And your head be always queer,
And be shot on Wimbledon Common
By a rifle volunteer."