# The Address of the Newsman

TO HIS CUSTOMERS,

183X.2.

1

Kind Sirs! I hope you will excuse
This Tribute of a Newsman's Muse,
Which I must own you will not find
Correct, sublime, or well refin'd.

2

Though damps and colds you know await
The Toils attach'd to Newsmen's fate;
And tho' assail'd by Frost and Snow,
Yet undismayed must always go:

3

Tho' forked Lightnings fiercely glow;
Tho' Northern Winds with Terror Blow;
Tho' Awful Thunders loudly Roll,
And Shake the Earth from Pole to Pole:

4

Through Thick and Thin I ne'er Refuse
To bring you all the daily News;
The numerous toils I undergo,
Sure none but wearied Newsmen know.

5

I, ere the Sun proclaims the Day,
Or all his orient beams display,
Do with a quick and nimble Pace
The Well-known tedious track retrace.

6

The Advertizer for Mechanics' view,
The Herald, Times, and Post,
The Morning Chronicle and Ledger too;
And when that's done there's nought to boast.

7

For ere the Sun withdraws his light
And murkier Clouds portend the night,
With far more weariness than joy,
I Hasten to the same employ.

8

And now my Evenings course begun
I seek the Courier, Albion, Sun
The Mail, the Standard, and Record,
The British Traveller and the World.

9

Nor on the Sabbath do I rest,
With equal toils I am oppress'd;
A more extended way I then pursue
To bring you on the Sunday something new.

10

Throughout the Globe are spread,
The News of every day,
By Messengers with weary Head
Who with Dispatch convey.

11

Intelligence from foreign climes,
The Ballot, Age, and Sunday Times;
The Atlas and Spectator too
Bring hidden things unto your view.

12

But now comes a painful task,
Some favours of my friends to ask?
Though begging once a year in fact,
Is not within the Vagrant act:
So lest I strike again on misery's rocks
Bestow on me a Christmas Box.

Printed by J. Cowell, 22, Terrace, Pimlico.