He sits on the Treasury bench all night,
And teaches the Tories to scorn all right
And send the Truth a-packing;
He favors “my uncle” with Irish news,
He is hand and glove with “my nephew’s” views.
And polishes Mr. Matthews’ shoes
With Warren’s infallible blacking.
He will flourish a pen for the London Times,
And prove to his own content—
With the faultless logic of pantomimes—