The Knife Grinder’s Budget

“Swing-up, my Lads!”
The Drill-Sergeant cries,
“And fix on the Fugle-man
Each of your eyes.”

PRICE ONE PENNY.

FRONTISPIECE.

THE KNIFE-GRINDER.

THE

KNIFE-GRINDER’s

OF

Pictures & Poetry,

FOR

BOYS AND GIRLS.

OTLEY:

PRINTED BY WILLIAM WALKER.

1829.

THE BUDGET

“Come buy my fine Apples,”
The old Woman cries,
“You cannot have better
For eating or pies.”

The Huxter and Donkey
Are both on their legs:
They’re going to market
For butter and eggs.

The Barber, of all men,
Is most full of news,
And ever detested
By long-bearded Jews.

“Well, Richard, you’re mounted
Again, I declare!”
“Yes, riding is better
Than walking, by far!”

The Goat on the crag
You see fast asleep;
From whence he can leap,
Tho’ it’s ever so steep.

The Child and Miss Pussy
Do play very nice;
But Pussy had much rather
Play with some mice.

“Be quick as a Lamp-lighter!”
Sometimes we say:
Here’s one upon duty
Fast tripping away.

O, Keeper! thy visage
Is dreadful indeed!
Thy presence I’ll flee
With all possible speed.

Here comes for the Butcher
A fine lusty Calf,
For the killing of which
He perhaps will get half.

Potatoes are useful,
If they be but good:
The ground must be till’d,
Or we cannot have food.

That Hound, I dare say,
Won’t like the Boy’s whip;
Could he break the cord,
He would give him the slip.

Poor Jack! I’m afraid
That thy bum will be sore:
That footmen were boot-jacks
I ne’er knew before.

You here see a poor man
Repairing a chair;
He sits on the ground,
Quite expos’d to the air.

Silk, Cotton, and Sugar,
And Coffee, and Tea,
Are fetch’d by the sailors
Across the great sea.

Poor Tray seems inclin’d
With Matilda to dine:
He wants but the meat,—
He would leave her the wine.

Come buy my fat Rabbits,
Come, Ladies, and buy;
With mutton they make
A most excellent pie.

When the Hen calls her Chickens,
They follow straight-way;
So Children should always
Their Parents obey.

You see the old Laundress
At work in her drills;
But I fear she’s too old
To crimp you your frills.

“Buy a good sweeping-brush,—
Hand-brushes buy,—
I’ll sell you cheap brushes,”—
The old man doth cry.

This Lady of pleasure
Is taking fresh air;
Which may do very well,
If the weather keep fair.

Poor Ned, I’m afraid,
Cannot meet with his horse;
He seems quite distracted
At so great a loss.

The Girl you see swinging,
If the band only break,
Will be in great danger
Of breaking her neck.

A Bull-baiting now
Puts an end to my book:
The scene is so cruel,
I can scarce bear to look.

W. Walker, Printer, Otley.

Old Billy, poor man!
Is depriv’d of his sight,
But still with his music
Produces delight.

PRICE ONE PENNY.

Transcriber’s Note: Punctuation has been standardized.