Ye pooh-poohing puppies, ye foul-mouthed jokers,

Contemptible cynics, and broken-down croakers,

Your rancorous shafts can’t harm or offend

Our high-minded leader, our patriot and friend.

Go to bed, rantipoles, your day’s on the wane;

Lie still, for you’ll never be wanted again.

The Earl in due time gave “Long life to the Mayor,”

And the chairman responded in terms rich and rare;

He talk’d of his “Earlship’s well-known festivalities,”

Our local inducements, our strange nationalities.