From the Bodleian Library Ballad collection, Harding B 11(3743):


THE TEA
[London: between 1819 and 1844]

1. The tea!—the tea!—the wholesome tea!
The black, the green, the mix'd, the good, the strong Bohea!
When the water boils, and the tea is made,
And the tea things on the table laid,
We washerwomen work with glee,
But still at night enjoy our tea.
  I'm at my tub!—I'm at my tub!
  I am where I would ever be,
  Among the steam and suds so blue.
  Though my copper has a smoky flue,
If a storm should come, what is't to me?
I wash! I wash! And I take my tea!

2. I hate, oh, how I hate to hear
That some prefer to tea, strong beer.
It makes men drunk both night and noon,
And if they sing, 'tis out of tune;
And ladies, if they drink strong beer,
Are apt to scratch and perhaps to swear.
  I have had coffee galore,
  But I love the green tea more and more,
  For it's good for the nerves, and warms my heart,
  And from it I will never part.
For a friend it was, and is to me,
For when I was born, my mother gave me tea.

3. The tiles were white, and a frosty morn
In December month when I was born.
The dustman bawl'd and his bell he toll'd,
And the milkman's nose was blue with cold,
And never was heard such a medley wild
As welcom'd to life the cockney child.
  I have liv'd since then, a maid and wife,
  A sober washerwoman's life,
  Wash'd down with tea all idle care,
  And never have wish'd for better fare;
And death, whenever he comes to me,
Will find me drinking a good strong cup of tea.