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“Mother Goose” on the Panic.
We have picked up the following capital applications of Mother Goose’s melodies to the present conditions of the money market, floating about in our exchanges:
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Sing a song of specie
Gotham all away,
Seven and fifty Bank Birds
Knocked into pi;
When the Banks were open’d
The Cashier tried to sing,
Wasn’t that a pretty dish
To send to Gov’nor King!
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Hark! hark! the Banks do bark,
The brokers have come to town,
Some with “bags” and some with “rags,”
To hunt the specie down.
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There was a man in our town,
Who was so wondrous wise,
He jumped into the Barbary coast
And drew out his supplies.
And when he got his specie out,
With all his might and main,
He rushed into another Bank
And concluded that, all things considered,
he might as well deposit again.
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Ba! ba! Bank sheep, have you any gold?
Yes, marry, have I, three bags told;
One for depositors, one for me,
And one for an old chap that lives across the sea?
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One — Two! What shall we do?
Three — Four! Close up the door.
Five — Six! They are coming like bricks,
Seven — Eight! Ask them to wait.
Nine — Ten! Good friends, come again.
Eleven — Twelve! The deposits we’ll shelve.
Thirteen — Fourteen! Stop exporting.
Fifteen — Sixteen! Ain’t we fixed in?
Seventeen — Eighteen! Keep ‘em waiting!
Nineteen — Twenty! Vaults are Empty!
Fort Wayne Sentinel, The (Fort Wayne, Indiana) Nov 7, 1857
BLOCK QUOTES run a muck again!
