And Biggar’s beauteous body, and Tim Healy’s handsome head.
There sit the brood of anarchy, the troublers of the land;
And dark Parnell is in their midst, and holds them well in hand.
And as we look on them, we think of treason in full flood,
And good Lord Frederick’s manly breast bedabbled with his blood;
And we cry unto fair Fortune from their toils to set us free,
To fight for loyal liberty and valiant William G.
He comes once more to marshal us, in simple broadcloth drest;
As glorious are his scant white locks as any knightly crest.
He looked upon his Homer, and he heaved a scholar’s sigh;