“Kent’s elected—no mistake!”
Cries one as soon as he’s awake;
“Crow! Chapman, crow!” some loafers shout;
“Our cause is just,” replies a lout.
“Tremendous frauds!” a Loco cries;
Another swears the rascal lies.
The sons of Freedom lift their voice,
And in their great “huge paws” rejoice.
“The weak, old man” they execrate,
And British whigs and gold they hate.