I’ll take the Corn-Laws for a pall,
And, wrapping them around me, fall—
Wept by the Morning Post!
“Go, John—the steam will soon be up,
A sandwich I would taste;
I shall be too sea-sick to sup—
Unto Sir Robert haste;
Tell that man to his brazen face,
Thou saw’st the last of Ducal race
Quitting this classic spot,