Then here’s to the Oak, the brave old Oak,
Who stands in his pride alone,
And still flourish he a hale green tree,
When a hundred years are gone.
* * * * *
H. F. Chorley.
A Bit of a Parody.
A Song of the Dukes, of the dense old Dukes,
That have rul’d in the land so long;
With small renown to the Ducal crown,