on the
“Existing State of Things”

Dedicated without permission
To The States
of the
Island of Jersey
The Author


Poetry in Jersey


Three blind Govenours,
(Nicholas, Ray, and Stewart,)
"See how they run, see how they run"
Before the battle's fought, before the battle's won,
Nw, come and see the fun.
They say; “the question now is settled,"
“Before I came, if not before,"
I say; fiddle, fiddle, the cats will fiddle,
.And the mice will run before.

One blind and magnanimous Bailiff,
He is a cad, also a caitiff.
See how he runs, see how he runs
To outrun the other ones,
To be a Jersey Bailiff.
Who'd be a Jersey Bailiff ?
“May the Lord have mercy,"
“On the Bailiff of Jersey."
He says ; bless me I see that you've been “badly treated,"
But, you're not the only man whom I have cheated.
I say ; fiddle,. fiddle, the cats may fiddle,
Mice not blind, won't dance to the Bailiff`s fiddle.

Twelve blind but honest Ju-Rats
Twelve honest men as I'm alive,
They calculate that two and two 'makes' five,
"See how they run, see how they run"
Now come and see the fun.
These sit upon a rotten Bench,
Sometimes they preach, and say " Retrench."
They agitate, and cogitate, and legislate
And sometimes they do Administrate.
They say ; we are omnipotent and mighty,
Nobody can't tell us nothing
In our red gowns we look most sightly,
We are all most, if not quite all mighty.
I say ; fiddle, fiddle, the cats may fiddle,
Three of you have gone to the dogs.
And the rest will go to the Devil.

TWELVE blind and ridiculous Rectors,
Can any such be found ?
Who pray for our salvation,
To save us from damnation
While the world goes round and round.
See how they run, see how they run
Now come and see
They try to build a landing stage,
They tell us, “all the world's a stage,”
While the world goes round and round.
One is a canon ecclesiastical,
And one 'originaire' Bombastical.
They forsake their fellow sinners
To attend committee dinners.
They say; there are no States to-day,
So come, and let us pray.
I say; fiddle, fiddle, the cats will fiddle,
While the mice go praying round.

TWELVE blind but courteous Constables,
Twelve 'Cincinnati' here you see.
“See how they run, see how they run,"
Now, come and see the fun.
With wooden heads, and turnip heads,
They fight and strive to be M.P.
They prate, and vote, and vote by rote,
And throw our money in the sea:
Their engineering skill is what we most admire
They say; Our Engineer's turned out a " liah”
“For the sea don't come no higher”
I say ; fiddle, fiddle, the cats will fiddle,
While the mice go building round.

Fourteen blind and foolish Deputies,
These are the elect, elected by vox populi,
They say; the ballot's all 'my eye.'
“See how they run, see how they run”
Now, come and see the fun.
They say; we represent the people, and we vote,
As Constables and Parsons vote.'
We vote for dredging and for Kinniple
To spend the public money not a little.
We vote for more Deputies for Town,
Because the country sits upon the Town.
We vote for a landing stage of stone,
Because it would not do of wood alone.
We vote for concrete blocks, blocks of cement
To please our Judge Briard ; he sells cement.
We vote for building on dry ground,
And then to bring the water in,
To build where water is, we've always found
Besides expense, would be an awful sin.
We vote for 'our privileges' and for our 'Constitution'
For our Norman laws, and for our 'Institution.'
We vote for 'Ome Rule,' for our own Mis. Government,
We've no confidence in Treasury, nor yet in Parliament.
We vote against Imperial Interference,
We call it just impertinence.
We vote for our Royal Bailiff,
Because he's king of all supreme,
And he's the 'cream of all the cream.'
We don't want "no " Reform nor Progress yet,
We vote for Statesmen who the pickings get.
We vote for anything and everything,
To keep things just as they are;
We vote, and stick to any mortal thing,
We want no change ; leave things just as they are.
I say ; fiddle, fiddle, the cats will riddle,
And they will also play. "But nobody won't listen,"
To what other people say;
“Sh'est assez pour en faire rire les kaats.”

Conclusion And Chorus
Sung by All "Thorough Bred" Jerseymen,

Now let us sing, long live our king,
Our Royal George, and long live he;
Long may he live to be the King,
Of this Island of the sea.
Old Englands Queen is not our Queen,
Although she's Empress of Indee,
She's only George's Suzeraine,
And only " Duchesse de la Normandie,"
When we kept Her Majesty's Jubilee,
Sir George, he ran away you see,
Only to show his Loyaltee.
When we celebrate his Jubilee,
May we all be there to see.

I say ; Down with all Traitors and
God Save the Queen.

Saint Valentine's Day, 1889.
H. C. Bertram




Poetry in Jersey





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