Now it was two days after St. Valentine, that the Liberal Chief buckled on his armour, entered St. Stephen’s, and prepared himself for the fight. And his war-cry was “Justice to all men,” “Liberty to Ireland,” and “Disendowment of the Irish Church.” And the sons of the Land of Buttermilk, shouted, “More power to you, Gladstone!”
And lo, the cry caused certain prelates to curtail their shovel hats of their fair proportions and go into mourning, by converting their silk aprons into hatbands, at which the grunters nearly split their side with laughter.
And there arose a cry from the exiled sons of Erin, which sank deep into the heart of noble Gladstone, and with the battle-axe of Mercy struck off their fetters and they were free!
And there was loud cries of “Long life to noble Gladslone, the Liberator of the Land of Donovans!”
And Hardy the bosom friend of Poleaxe Dickey the hero of Hyde Park, protested loudly against Gladstone and his measure, and he and Dizzey wept bitter tears, when they saw that they were licked.
And the land of donovans and buttermilk shouted, No surrender, faugh o’ballagh! go it Gladstone, and the Sandys danced tullochgorum round the rims of their porridge-pots, and in whiskey, success to the Church Bill.
Thus endeth the lesson for the day.
LET US SAY.
From all Church monopoly, good Gladstone, save us.
Save us, good Gladstone.