“We’ll strike Lord Palmerston all of a heap,
And show we can catch a French weasel asleep,”
Said they, their impertinence owning.
Four asses they hung down their lollopping ears,
When the post came in to Liverpool town,
And brought them a letter whereof it appears
Those donkeys could’nt translate a noun.
For Looey knows well how his secrets to keep,
And the Liverpool brokers unluckily reap
A harvest of jeering and groaning.