PREFERENTIAL TREATMENT

We was always a hintimate family,

An’ we doted on one another;

I was genuine fond o’ my Uncle Fred,

And o’ Cousin Jim I've a-often said

‘ E was more like my own born brother;

An’ a feeling of‘ earty affection I‘ ad

For Kate, wot‘ ad married my eldest lad.

Now, my Uncle Fred keeps the‘ Dumpshire Arms,’

An’ Jim's in the grocery trade;

While Kate‘ as a little front-window shop,

Where she sells stone-bottles o’ ginger-pop

An’ sweets as is all‘ ome-made;

And I earns enough for my board an’ booze,

A-makin’ an’ mendin’ o’ boots an’ shoes.

Last winter it were, when times was bad,

That Jim‘ ad a‘ appy thought;

‘ Ow fine it'd be if we'd all agree

On a kind of a mutual trade, sez‘ e,

For our things as we sold an’ bought;

We'd‘ elp one another ( which sounded nice ),

An’ be getting our goods at a lower price.

I'd tinker the boots o’ the family cheap,

An’ get‘ ome on my uncle's beer,

Nor I would n't be‘ avin’ to strain my means

A-buying expensive pertaters an’ greens

Orf o’ Cousin Jim, no fear!

An’ for luxuries, such as the missus eats,

I could get‘ em‘ alf-price orf o’ Katie's sweets.

But it did n't work. For my Uncle Fred

‘ E treated me crool unfair;

I sold‘ im some shoes, starvation price,

But I‘ ad n't a-tasted‘ is beer but twice

When‘ e said as I'd drunk my share!

Then I mended a couple o’ pairs o’ Kate's —

But sweets is a thing as the missus‘ ates.

Tho’ for Cousin Jimmy I took an’ made

A set o’ new‘ eels and soles,

I was paying for greens at a‘ igher rate

Than‘ e charged to my Uncle Fred, or to Kate,

An’‘ is cheeses was full of‘ oles!

(‘ E was getting‘ is liquor‘ alf-price, no doubt,

While I‘ ad to bally well go without! )

Now, I‘ ave n't spoke to my Uncle Fred

For nigh on six months or more,

An’ I've ceased to‘ ave dealings with Cousin Jim

( For at‘ eart I'd a-often suspected‘ im ),

An’ I never wo n't darken‘ is door;

An’ I've‘ ad quite enough o’ that rubbish o’ Kate's,

Wot was always the kind of a woman I‘ ates.

Yes, family ties is a splendid thing

If it's sentiment keeps‘ em there;

When it comes to a question o’ gold and gain,

They turns at once to a hirksome chain,

Such as nobody wants to wear;

When matters of money appears on the floor,

Them family feelings walks out at the door!

If England's a-going to‘ aggle an’ fight

For Colonial Preference,

If the love of‘ er sons for the Motherland

Is a kind of a feeling as only can stand

On a basis o’ shillings an’ pence,

That sort o’ foundation wo n't last overlong,

An’ there's something, I lay, must be‘ opelessly wrong.

When the Colonies‘ eld out their‘ ands to us,

It was n't for British gold;

But who‘ ll vouch for the love o’ the Britisher-born,

When‘ e bargains‘ is honour for tariffs on corn,

An’‘ is loyalty's bartered an’ sold?

( A‘ appy‘ armonious fam'ly we'll make,

A-arguing who shall‘ ave most o’ the cake! )

We shall‘ ave them Australian Governments

A-striking for better terms,

An’ there's sure to be plenty o’ grumbling when

The Canadian manufacturing men

Is competing wi’ Henglish firms;

An’ each separate part o’ the Hempire‘ ll feel

As the others is‘ aving the best o’ the deal.

From which, if you follows my meaning through,

There's a obvious moral to draw:

Let's consider the Motherland's future, afore

We allows‘ er to risk being Mother no more,

An’ becoming the Mother-in-law!

For if loyalty's paid for, it ai n't worth a thought,

An’ affection's a fraud if it‘ as to be bought.