THE SONG OF THE STUMP.
Stump—stump—stump—
Through market-place, pothouse, and dirt;
Stump—stump—stump—
With a greasy mob fast to his skirt;
Having changed his coat to secure their vote,
Mr. Gladstone now changes his shirt.
And if he but ends as he does begin,
There is little doubt he will change his skin,
On the stump—stump—stump.
Stump—stump—stump—
Through Ormskirk, St. Helen's and Newton,
Whilst after him shout a rabble rout
Of electors "Ain't he a cute 'un?"
Stump—stump—stump—
With the aid of rhetorical steam,
Till over his speeches we fall asleep,
And hear him stump in a dream;
Stump—stump—stump—
For ever upon our ear.
Alas! that principle's so cheap,
And office is so dear!
Stump—stump—stump.
The Tomahawk, November, 1868.