PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

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.

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!