Farewell to the Season.
Farewell to the Season! Not often
We take it so early as June;
But Chamberlain nothing could soften,
The Parties were all out of tune.
And so dissolution confronts us,
Ere roses are fairly in bloom,
And Gladstone from Westminster hunts us
To challenge our fate, and his doom.
Farewell to the Season! ’Twas scurvy