But now the Whigs are in retreat—
At every poll they lose a seat—
So bid “good-bye” to Downing Street,
Oh, Chief of the Liberal Party!
The bench you fill, you soon shall face,—
Like your own jokes, be out of place!
And a better man your post shall grace—
The country’s fav’rite in the race;—
So clear the course for the Derby-day
Tories gather in strong array!