He’d smother the people with Parsons’ wigs;
But if I had my will, mark what I mean,
I’d make Murphy a footman to the Queen.
Murphy and me could make it right,
If like a Lancashire lad I could fight,
I’d poke out the eyes of Jackey Bright,
And punch the shins of Gladstone.
I tremble and I quake with fear,
For Gladstone he is so severe,
Though he was kicked out in Lancashire,