rarely been equalled. It was soon translated
into every language of Europe--(Hood used to laugh as he wondered
how they would render "Seam and gusset and band," into Dutch);
it was printed and sold as catchpennies, printed on cotton
pocket-handkerchiefs, it was illustrated and parodied in a thousand
ways; and the greatest triumph of all, which brought tears of joy to
Hood's eyes, before a week was out a poor beggar-woman came singing it
down the street, the words set to a simple air of her own. The greatest
delight of Hood--"the darling of the English heart," as he was called,
who was literally dying when he wrote the song, and so fulfilled the
sole condition which Jerrold said was all that was needed to make him
famous--was the conviction that the interest which the nation was taking
in his lines would turn to the real advantage of those in whose cause he
pleaded. He felt that he had touched not only the nation's heart but
the nation's conscience, and he deeply appreciated Kenny Meadows' and
Leech's efforts in the same direction, such as are to be seen in the
cartoons of "Pin Money, Needle Money," and many more besides.

Speaking of the "Song of the Shirt," which brought letters to _Punch_
from every part of the globe, Mr. Ruskin declares it the most impressive
example of the most perfect manifestation of the temper of the
caricaturist, the highest development of which is to be found in Hood's
poetry; and he compares it to Leech's "General Fevrier turned Traitor."
There certainly can be no doubt that its force is amazingly assisted by
its plainness and simplicity of language.

It is a curious fact that one verse of the poem was not printed by Mark
Lemon, although it appeared in the original manuscript; nor is it
included in the reprinted "Works." I imagine that its omission was
simply a matter of make-up, as it would be hard to compress the poem
into the space allotted to it, without using a much smaller type than
was usual in _Punch_; and an odd number of verses is a serious matter
for a sub-editor to wrestle with when he has to arrange a poem into
double columns of a given depth. The missing verse, which, to do Mark
Lemon justice, is the one most easily spared, runs as follows:--

"Seam, and gusset, and band,
Band, and gusset, and seam,
Work, work, work,
Like an Engine that works by Steam!
A mere machine of iron and wood,
That toils for Mammon's sake,
Without a brain to ponder and craze,