And Magog scarce his spike-stuck weapon holds;
For Cornewall Lewis sits, prepared to write,
And Patteson an awful scroll unfolds.
Lament of Lord Mayor's Day.
Air.—"Woodpecker."
I knew by the smile that derisively curled
On the Patteson lip, that my downfall was near,
When he said, "I can't see the least use in the world
Of that gew-gaw procession you mount every year."