The DÆMON of LUDDISM to his SON.
OH SON! oh Son! alack! alack!
What woeful days are come!
My children which thou rear’dſt so well,
Are forced to leave their home.
But oh! of all miſchievous things,
Write down the True Blue clubs;
For truth and virtue there will join,
To give us deadly rubs.
Thy cauſe and mine thou knoweſt full well,
Connected were and one,
But oh!—that Truth!—I hate its fight,
It ſhows our ugly form.
It makes me ſkulk, it makes thee wince,
It fills my mouth with foam,
Ne’er mind my lad—thy work is done,
Come to thy father home.
October 31, 1812. PEEP BOH.
This poem was printed in the Leeds Intelligencer of 2nd November 1812.