The climax, then, is natural—you mean to die a Peer, John!
Yes, John! yes, John! your recent acts express, John,
That you in your maturer years a curious craze possess, John;
Which, having made you do the things you’ve all your life abhorr’d, John,
Now fills you with a silly wish—’twould seem—to be a Lord, John!
Eh, John! eh, John? “It isn’t so!” you say, John?
Then let it be your aim henceforth, most earnestly we pray, John;
Yes, please, as fitting climax to those Whig and Tories, cheers, John,
To Bramwell, Lowe, and Brabourne join in our great House of Peers, John!
Yes, John! yes, John! most urgently we press, John,