The mass of the House must be mad!
Whom should we ask to protect us,
My own dear Nickleby Nod?
A rowdy rot seems to infect us
And Nemesis looks leaden-shod.
Shouldn't we look to the Chair
To save us from garrulous fad,
When row-de-dow fills all the air,
And the bulk of the House is gone mad?
Cynics may find it amusing,