It is not a contest ’twixt people and crown,
And woe to the lords who would trample them down!
Brave Gladstone advances his arguments plain,
And Tory mis-statements are routed and slain.
And hark! ’mid the mutt’rings of those you would dare,
What cry loud and earnest is borne on the air?
’Tis “Down with the Lords!” and, though Gladstone deplores,
The people in anger will surge at your doors.
Then take Gladstone’s warning, your error repair,
Ere we wring our just rights from your fear and despair;