Whigs, whom Tierney can’t control,
And swears at horribly!
Hume vows he has made a breach,
(Not a pair, as hirelings teach),
Out of little Bennet’s reach,
By Financery!
Let Wilson rear his fallen crest,
Let Log-Wood’s wisdom be confess’d,
Leave Creevey’s virtues—to be guess’d,
And Cam to form the line.