THE
RAREE SHOW;

OR,

Humours of the Garden.

A NEW SONG—Words by G. C.

Printed and sold by J. Jennings, 15, Water-lane,
Fleet-street, London.

O WHAT a fuss and botheration
With the grand Playhouse of the nation,
Carriages with inquiry driving,
To get in each one is striving.

CHORUS.
What a rarge show,
It was a rarge show.

I happen'd to be going to the city,
To miss this sight I thought a pity:
Oh, what a fuss and consideration,
I thought it was a grand illumination.

Says one, How I am disappointed,
To see the play I should have been delighted;
A second cries out, with a grim,
I'd give a pound I could get in.

'Twas droll to see how some were flocking,
Many without shoe or stocking,
Another cries out, Murther, murther!
I'm wedg'd so fast I can't get further.

The prigs as dextrous were as any,
All for to get an honest penny,
Privity Lucy lost her locket,
And Nell her money and her pocket

At this raree show;
What a noble show;
It was a noble show.