Unless re-elected, De Vear then go bragh.
Oh office my haven, though by me forsaken,
In dreams I revisit thy lucrative store,
But alas, by the Colonel thrown out I awaken,
And sigh for the votes that support me no more.
And thou my Lord Grey, will you never replace me,
In a post where electors no longer can chase me;
Ah, never again shall old Glory embrace me,
Or will he too go out with his Hob to deplore.
Where now is the Westminster rump that supported