When his ancestors for ages by their own mad acts have died,
Do you wonder that a fellow has a taste for suicide?
When a nose for generations is the feature of a race,
And you know a fellow’s surname just by glancing at his face,—
When this modern law of nature throughout all creation runs,
And it’s odds on roaring racers having only roaring sons,
Do you think that Ananias you should dub a luckless youth
Whose papa was such a liar that he cannot tell the truth?
Scotch’d, not Kilt.
(THE KAISER’S SONG.)
Air.—“I winna gang back to my mammy again.”
WINNA gang back to auld Bizzy again,
I’ll never gang back to auld Bizzy again;
I’ve held by his coat-tails this aught months and ten,
But I’ll never gang back to auld Bizzy again.
I’ve held by his coat-tails, etc.
Caprivi came down i’ the gloaming to woo,
He lookit sae bonnie and honest and true;
“Oh, com’ awa’, Willie, ne’er let Bizzy ken;”
And I made young Caprivi the best o’ my men,
Oh, com’ awa’, Willie, etc.
He told me whatever I would I might do,
And pressed hame his words wi’ a smile on his mou’,
So I fell on his bosom, and said, “Ye maun reign,
For aiblins ye’ll leave me a will o’ my ain.”
So I fell on his bosom, etc.
For many lang months sin’ I cam’ to the crown
Auld Bizzy’s been hecklin’ and haudin’ me down;
I’ve held by his coat-tails this aught months and ten,
But I’ll never gang back to auld Bizzy again.
I’ve held by his coat-tails, etc.
The Last Resource.
