“How happy” exclaimed that child of air—
And ’twas true, though he hadn’t much truth to spare—
“Are Gladstone and Bright in clover there!
But I’ve made a mess they’ll find hard to repair
I’ve shed innocent blood in every clime,
Sent thousands of men to death in their prime,
Have carried my rule by falsehood and crime,
Done deeds that will stink the end of time,—
And I leave my country my heir!”
“Woe, woe for ever!