For England hates thee, she’s so proud;”
But a voice answered, “I’m quite cowed,”
Ye poor Mahdi!
“Stay,” cried an angry Custom’s Clerk,
“You pay £5 to leave this barque;
And if you don’t, why we shall paste
On H.M.S. right round your waist”—
Ye poor Mahdi!
Beware, ye girls of Kensington,
Beware that man called “Number One.”