“Down with Gladstone the traitor and all his base crew!”
Like leaves of the forest when summer is green,
The hosts of the Tories in August were seen;
Like leaves of the forest when autumn has blown,
These hosts in September were withered and strown.
For “Gladstone the traitor” went up to the North,
And tackled the foe on the banks of the Forth;
And the hopes of the Tories waxed deadly and chill,
And their tongues wagged but once, and for ever were still.
And the Tory old women are loud in their whines,