The furious fugler of the gang
His rabid epithets may rain
On that grey head in vain, in vain,
Though England’s heart may feel a pang,
And England’s pride a stain.
Great shrieker of the shrieking crew,
The lyric recreant raves and rails
At Justice, who adjusts her scales,
At last, at last, for Erin too,
His fire of freedom fails.