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The Old Labourer's Last Job

God bless you, Sir, when I were young,
And George the Fourth were King,
We'd barley-meal, and turnip-tops,
And all that sort of thing.
The Tories taxed our clothes and bread,
And everything we had,
I must say since the Liberals come,
Things hasn't been so bad.
But still it don't see just and right,
That now I'm old and done,
I should be driven out of home
Into the Union.

If I'd been given a fairer share,
Of wealth I've gained for others,
God knows I'd not be breaking stones,
With vagrants for my brothers.
I've kept my life from shame and crime,
The land from weeds kept free,
And now the sun sets on my days,
Why can't the land keep me?
Please heaven, the Grand Old Man will come,
And take us by the hand,
From Tory Egypt lead us forth
Into the Promised Land.

Author unknown.

A pointed comment on the fate of many of the elderly on a postcard from 1909 — the year the old-age pension was introduced for those aged seventy or over. However, tose in receipt of poor relief, or who had been in the previous twelve months, did not qualify for the pension.

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