The Grand Old Man to the North has gone,
’Neath a “Primrose” roof you’ll find him,
His “four point” poster he has girded on,
And his family travel behind him.
“Liberals all,” said the canny chief
“Let not disunion rend ye;
“Though by my deeds ye have come to grief
“In Speech I’ll aye defend ye!”
“Unite, Unite;” he pleads in vain,
Too late he sees his blunder,