Oh! ’tis they are the boys for the Chartist mob,
Who thought insurrection to hatch;
And who spoke out so bold, in their John Street hold,
But funk’d when it came to the scratch.
Who swore that they did not care one whit,
For grapeshot, or rockets, or balls;
But who cut right away, with the devil to pay,
At the sight of the Spe-ci-als.
The Man in the Moon, Vol. III.