And I ony wish 'twould come, dear, with my first fine Sunday hout.
Drat these sniffy snapping Leaguers! Ho! they fancy they're high-tone,
But I'll give 'em the straight griffin. Leave our petticuts alone!
They may take it from me, Polly, they'll soon drop their bloomin' banner,
If all women show the sperrit of,
Yours trooly,
Mary-Anner.
Cue for Kennington (especially after the smart seconding of the Address in the Lower House).—"Mark—Beaufoy!"