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 wouldn'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 didn't work. For my Uncle Fred 'E treated me crool unfair; I sold 'im some shoes, starvation price, But I 'adn'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 'aven'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 won'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 won't last overlong, An' there's something, I lay, must be 'opelessly wrong.

When the Colonies 'eld out their 'ands to us, It wasn'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 ain't worth a thought, An' affection's a fraud if it 'as to be bought.