LAY OF THE CITY SEWER.

Auckland Star, Volume I, Issue 233, 7 October 1870, Page 2

LAY OF THE CITY SEWER.

ADAPTED. I silently crawl through a populous city. Where thousands of victims my odours inhale, I've small space to travel in, oh ! 'tis a pity I cannot spread more of my balm to the gale. Drown'd puppies and dead cats my bosom delighteth, For o'eflowin? cesspools I ne'er sigh in vain ; Yet daily my terrors nobody affrighteth, And still I flow on, I'm the Queen-street Wharf Drain. Thames water I know the best porter produces In places where filthiest sewers run out; But a brewer's behaviour most certainly loose is Who vends to the public such villanous stout. I suppose there's a reason why brewers befriend me, They highly esteem my assistance 'tis plain ; For they brew on my brink, and they never offend me, They know their best friend is the Queen-street Wharf Drain. The Chinamen relish a savoury mouthful, A thousand dead cats are but fish in their net; Tho' their habits I know are decidedly doubtful, With butcher or baker they ne'er run in debt. When the city at midnight is wrapped in deep slumber My stenches they valiantly brave and disdain, From my bed they drag putrified rats beyond number, Cornucopia to John is the Queen-street Wharf Drain. My greatest delight is to stifle wayfarers When peacefully wending their way thro' this town; No mercy I e'er show to petticoat wearers, I send out my fumes, and they must knuckle down. Even horses I startle, whene'er they come near me; And passengers choke in the drizzling rain; Ere long I will make the Commissioners fear me— I'll let them all know I'm the Queen-street Wharf Drain.

My jubilee time —the hot summer—is coming Oh, how I'll enjoy myself then every day! When flowers are in bloom, and the bees softly humming, And nature's face, smiling, looks verdant and gay; My steam will arise, and tho' none may perceive it, :. Hell poison I'll scatter through alley and lane, I'll breed plague and fever, and tho' few believe it, There's death for a host in the Queen-street Wharf Drain.

j The grave-digger Walker will have work, oh ! yes I • plenty; Many coffins I'll fill and send off in a van ; ■ Off your loving ones daily I'll kill at least twenty— ! The threat is not idle, for do it I can. Your hearths will be vacant, your streets all deserted, The mourner may weep for her lost ones in vain— YEach home to a charnel house will be converted, Thro' shameful neglect of the Queen-street Wharf i : Drain.

Oh! you who who have wives, have sons, and fair daughters, Bestir ye, good citizens, c'en while ye may, Purify,.if you can, my pestiferous waters ; Or—better far —rapidly sweep them away ! ;A nuisance like me should be quickly abated, j Men who let it continue are surely insane. Take this warning, or soon you'll be asphyxiated ; ; To the death I'm your servant, —The Queen-street Wharf Drain.

Carbolic Acid,