A poem to mark Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee in 1887, and the placement of a statue in Bristol  in 1888 to mark the occasion.

The Little Bird Whispered to Me

I’ll tell in a song. If I do not break down –
What a little bird whispered to me!
‘Tis well just to notice events in our town
The little bird whispered to me!
‘Tis the Jubilee Year and without ere a frown
With our notes, gold and silver we’re all to come down,
They’ll accept anything, if it be but a “brown” –
The little bird whispered to me!

We’ll our loyalty show to our Queen without doubt
The little bird whispered to me!
Her fame with one voice we’ll right loyally shout,
The little bird whispered to me!
What Clifton and Bristol will do there’s a doubt –
They’ll p’raps raise a stature ‘tis hinted about –
But the site where to put it they haven’t found out
The little bird whispered to me!

Our slumbering suburbs, awaking at last
The little bird whispered to me!
At our many improvements, they stare, quite aghast,
The little bird whispered to me!
But you really should hear the tremendous big “cusses”
Bestowed by “poor cabby” on our welcome new “busses,”
Though the public being pleased, I can’t see where the fuss it,
The little bird whispered to me!

Our gallant assembly hasn’t shown itself shy
The little bird whispered to me!
In coming together to welcome friend Guy,
The little bird whispered to me!
Let us hope the funds gathered may give a fair start
To one so proficient and good in his art –
For Harry Rowe Guy is a really good “sart,”
The little bird whispered to me!