As the wish to prove himself popular more than soft J.G.,
With a most becoming blush his pale cheek, I'm sure, would burn,
If his uncle should cry, "Come, nephew dear, and second me!"
He would hint at nepotism, and the chance of secret schism.
"Let the mild ex-Liberal lead, I will be his henchman true!"
He would cry, with selfless joy on his brow like a pure chrism,
"After you!"
And as for simple Me! Oh, it's utter fiddle-de-dee
To suppose that I possess, or desire, the least look in.
No, selfishness, my friends, we unitedly agree