Where you railed against the throng of the wealthy and the strong,
And swore the People’s voice was the very voice of God.
It was about the noon of a sunny day of June,
That we saw their banners dance in Midlothian fair and fine;
And the Grand Old man was there, with his scant and snowy hair,
And Cowan, and Lord Rosebery, and Liberal hosts in line.
And the Chief by Scots adored raised his head and bared his sword,
And harangued his motley legions to form them to the fight;
And many a cheer and shout from their listening ranks brake out,
As the aged Sophist glosed upon justice, love, and right.