Of barleycorn bubble for me;
They have altered thee into a palace
Devoted to coffee and tea.
Thy courts are now trod by the teacher,
Thy fountains the cow and the pump,
And thy priest is a temperance preacher,
Poor Magpie and Stump!
Farewell! But if e’er in the distance
Of time that we cannot foresee,
Thou return to thy pristine existence—