THE NEW ORDER OF THINGS.
“Incipiunt magni procedere menses.”—Virgil.
(1830.)
We’re sick of this distressing state
Of order and repose;
We have not had enough of late
Of blunders or of blows;
We can’t endure to pass our life
In such a humdrum way;
We want a little pleasant strife:
The Whigs are in to-day!
Our worthy fathers were content
With all the world’s applause,
They thought they had a Parliament,
And liberty, and laws.
It’s no such thing; we’ve wept and groaned
Beneath a despot’s sway;
We’ve all been whipped and starved and stoned:
The Whigs are in to-day!
We used to fancy Englishmen
Had broken Europe’s chain,
And won a battle now and then
Against the French in Spain;
Oh no! we never ruled the waves,
Whatever people say;
We’ve all been despicable slaves:
The Whigs are in to-day!
It’s time for us to see the things
Which other folks have seen,
It’s time we should cashier our kings,
And build our guillotine;
We’ll abrogate Police and Peers,
And vote the Church away;
We’ll hang the parish overseers:
The Whigs are in to-day!
We’ll put the landlords to the rout,
We’ll burn the College Halls,
We’ll turn St. James’s inside out
And batter down St. Paul’s.
We’ll hear no more of Bench or Bar;
The troops shall have no pay;
We’ll turn adrift our men-of-war;
The Whigs are in to-day!
We fear no bayonet or ball
From those who fight for hire,
For Baron Brougham has told them all
On no account to fire;
Lord Tenterden looks vastly black,
But Baron Brougham, we pray,
Will strip the ermine from his back:
The Whigs are in to-day!
Go pluck the jewels from the crown,
The colours from the mast;
And let the Three per Cents come down,
We can but break at last;
If Cobbett is the first of men,
The second is Lord Grey;
Oh, must we not be happy, when
The Whigs are in to-day!