BISHOP.
The Prophet welcomes you, and sends
His message by my mouth, my friends;
He'll see you snug, for on this shore
There's heaps of room for millions more!..
Scotchman, I take it?.. Ah, I know
Glasgow—was there a year or so...
And if you don't from Yorkshire hail,
I'll—ah, I thought so; seldom fail.
Make yourselves snug and rest a spell,
There's liquor coming—meat as well.
All welcome! We keep open door—
Ah, we don't push away the poor;
Tho' he's a fool, you understand,
Who keeps poor long in this here land.
The land of honey you behold—
Honey and milk—silver and gold!