THE ALDERMAN'S HOPE.
Stand Prince Albert a Statue—it then mayn't be hard
To induce him to stand, by and by, for a Ward;
There ain't any lor, as I knows on, agin it,
And there's nothing, as I see, preposterous in it.
The wery next year pop him into the Chair,
And have the Prince Consort himself for Lord Mayor,
With an out-and-out Show on the ninth of November—
Of the Prince of Wales that, too, 's the birthday, remember.
What a sight!—to behold it all London would trudge—
The Recorder presenting the Prince to the Judge,
Relating his history, birth, education.
And how he has always behaved in his station.
His R'y'l Highness to see, his official robes drest in,
A countin' the hobnails—oh how interstin'!
The Illustrious News would set forth the whole story,
With a beautiful cut of the Prince in his glory.
Only fancy the feast at Guildhall—'t would be splendid,
And then what if the Lady May'ress condescended
To honour the spread—and to give circulation
To the Loving Cup—kissed to her liege Corporation!
Why there we should witness—whilst we was a-dining—
The Mace and the Sceptre in friendship combining,
Bound together with garlands of laurel and myrtle;
What a comfort to view as we sucked up the turtle!
Because we should hail in that union a token
Of a tie to be never undone, cut, or broken;
And a pledge that, as long as the Crown stands unshaken,
From Reform London City shall save its fat bacon.
