Shall prop for long thy fast-decaying power,
Or stave off Dissolution’s dreaded hour!”
Such were the words that fill’d with wild despair
The ruling Tories and their ductile lambs,
Indignant Dizzy raved and tore his hair,
As to his chums he read the telegrams.
Stout Stafford stared—his senses in a mist—
“What cheek!” cried angry Cross, and clench’d his brawny fist!
In the hall, cramm’d to excess
With all “Auld Reekie’s” Liberal blood,