The statesman rose in eloquent rage
To ply his political trade.
Stump, stump, stump,
Is this the successor of Burke,
Who, with a voice of dolorous pitch,
Still sings his song of the Turk?
Turk, Turk, Turk!
While the Czar is biting the dust.
And Turk, Turk, Turk,
The incarnation of lust.