A NEW ELECTION "LAY."
Oh, young Mrs. BRAND has gone down to the East!
To give the Electors a musical feast,
And save her fine treble she weapons has none;
Yet she means with that voice that the seat shall be won.
So good at a lay, at a ballad so grand,
There never was dame like the young Mrs. BRAND!
All boldly she's entered the Cambridgeshire halls,
'Mid the squires, and the parsons, the farmers, and thralls!
Said DUNCAN, the foeman, "My friends, on my word,
Of a stranger proceeding I never have heard.
I don't wish to be rude, but I can't understand
What you mean by this singing, oh young Mrs. BRAND!"
"You need not suspect me," the lady replied;
"I care not how flows the electoral tide,
I merely have come down to Wisbech to-day
To sing a few stanzas, trill one little lay.
I am tired of long speeches, Home-Rule I can't stand,
But I do enjoy singing"—quoth young Mrs. BRAND.
So lovely her voice, so bewitching her grace,
Such a treat—or such treating:—did never take place.
While the Primrose Dames fretted, the Unionists fumed,
She merely the thread of her roundel resumed;
And the Duncanites whispered—"'Tis most underhand!
We must send for a songstress to match Mrs. BRAND."
A change in her theme! She has altered the bar
To Kathleen Mavourneen and Erin-go-bragh!
Spell-bound stand the rustics; she's won the whole throng!
To the lady they've given their votes "for a song."
"'Twill be ours, will the seat—'tis the plot I have planned!
Oh, Music hath charms!"—exclaimed young Mrs. BRAND.
There is mourning mid folk of the Wire-pulling Clan;
Agents, Managers, Chairmen, are wild to a man,
For the Cambridgeshire precedent means that their calling
Has passed to the ladies excelling in—squalling!
"Free teaching" has come, and "Free Music"'s at hand;
Which we owe to the courage of young Mrs. BRAND.
