There’s a flat, there’s a flat, on the opposite side,
The country’s his home, and his nose is his guide,
Quick, quick, trip him up, knock his hat o’er his eyes,
And we’ll take out his wipe on the ground as he lies.
I heed not the beaks, I fear not their claws;
My object I’ll compass in spite of the laws;
I ne’er will give up to a tyrant of Peel’s,
Nor yield to a soul while I still have my heels.
The Puppet Show. April 1, 1848.