There lived in famed Toronto town
A man not very big,
A belted knight was he likewise,—
Knight of the old bay wig.
Mackenzie was this hero called,
From Scotia’s land he came,
To sow and reap—if e’er he could—
The seeds of future fame.
Well taught was he to broil and scold,
To slander and to lie,
The good to libel—but the bad
Around him close to tie.
A precious clan this hero got
To join him in the cause
Of Freedom, which but truly meant
Upturning of our laws.
He travelled all the country round,
With grievances his cry;
Then off to father John, at home,
Right quickly did he hie.
And then he told so many lies
That John began to stare;
And eke he talked so very large
That John began to swear.
Then out Mackenzie pulled the roll
Of those who did complain;
And for redress of grievances
He bawled with might and main.
Now John a so-so clerk had got—
A Janus-looking elf,
Who cared for nothing else of earth
But sleeping and himself.
Glenelg was snoring in his chair
His custom every day—
Then up he got and rubbed his eyes
To brush the sleep away.
Said he, “Rebellion is our love,
In it we do delight;
So now you may go back again,
We’ll soon set things to right;