There’s a Bodkin, a Patten, a Rose, and a Currie,
And a man that’s still Hastie, though ne’er in a hurry.
There is Cole without smoke, a “sou’-West” without danger;
And a Grey, that to place is at present a stranger.
There’s a Peel,—but enough! if you’re a virtuoso
You’ll see for yourself, and next month you may do so;
When, if you don’t say this New House is a wonder,
We’re Dutchmen—that’s all!—and at once knuckle under.