So when 'twas shown quite plainly, after pushing for it vainly, Beyond the "bar" the civic baubles had to be conveyed, With vow that none should floor them, their guardians upstairs bore them, And in the front seats flaunted them conspicuously displayed.
Then up stood Mr. Carson, quite as quiet as a parson, And read out his indictment with a settled, stone-like face, Till Tim Healy, quick replying, rose then and there, denying That the Counsel for the Crown had a shadow of a case.
And then as legal brother argued each against the other, The while Tim Sullivan reclined in all his civic blaze, O'Donel he looked vexed there, and he seemed somewhat perplexed there, As if the matter struck him as involved in doubtful haze.
But after some reflection, with a soupçon of dejection, He announced that he had settled (though, doubtless, mid some fears He might stir up Balfour's fury), there was no case for a jury. His judgment was received in Court with hearty ringing cheers.
Then, wild with exultation, up rose Mayor and Corporation, And, greeted by the crowd without, were cheered along the way, Til the Mansion House on nearing, the mob cried, 'midst their cheering, A speech they wanted, and would hear what he had got to say.
Then Tim Sullivan he spouted;—the mob they surged and shouted, And the upshot of the speech was this, that if, through legal flaws, By any chance your way you see, to battle with the powers that be, You're hero both and martyr if you break the Saxon's laws.
So it's no use, Balfour, troublin' the Civic powers of Dublin; For if you do, you know that they will meet you just half way; And if fresh accusation you but bring against the Nation, The City shure will answer with another Lord Mayor's Day!
THE REAL GRIEVANCE OFFICE.
(Before Mr. Commissioner Punch.)