This is Saloopthe precocious herb-woman's darlingthe delight of the early gardener, who transports his smoking cabbages by break of day from Hammersmith to Covent-garden's famed piazzasthe delight, and, oh I fear, too often the envy, of the unpennied sweep.

He begged them to come to Hammersmith in his boat, saying that he had something there to shew them.

And now all Hammersmith with zeal prepares To make a night of it when next we sing; We shall not waste our soft romantic airs, But the glad street with warlike strains shall ring Of blood and armaments and Fritz's whacking, And he shall hammer till the walls are cracking, And the whole suburb joins us in "The King.