Stray Leaves from the Portfolios of Alisander the Seer, Andrew Whaup, and Humphrey Henkeckle Edited by Alexander Rodger |
 |
COME, PADDY, REJOICE. |
|
|
|
 | Stray Leaves from the Portfolios of Alisander the Seer, Andrew Whaup, and Humphrey Henkeckle |  |
11
COME, PADDY, REJOICE.
“When the wicked perish, there is shouting.”—Solomon's Proverbs.
Come, Paddy, rejoice—throw your cap in the air,
For the great Long-Thong-Derry will lash you nae mair;
Whirl round your shillela, and loudly huzza,
For the back-flogging, flesh-salting cut-throat 's awa'.
Come join, Johnny Bull, wi' your poor brither Pat,
You're as lean now as he is, but laugh and grow fat,
For the great pauperizer, wha squeezed you sae sma',
The seat-selling, hole-digging cut-throat 's awa'.
For the great Long-Thong-Derry will lash you nae mair;
Whirl round your shillela, and loudly huzza,
For the back-flogging, flesh-salting cut-throat 's awa'.
Come join, Johnny Bull, wi' your poor brither Pat,
You're as lean now as he is, but laugh and grow fat,
For the great pauperizer, wha squeezed you sae sma',
The seat-selling, hole-digging cut-throat 's awa'.
Come, Sawney, rejoice too, wi' Paddy and John,
For the essence and life o' humbugging is flown,—
In ilk town and clachan your pipes loudly blaw,
For the brow-beating, nose-grinding cut-throat 's awa'.
Come, Europe and Africa, sing, too, wi' glee,
You now have some chance, if you wish to be free,
For the deadliest enemy freedom e'er saw,
The man-dealing, slave-selling cut-throat 's awa'.
For the essence and life o' humbugging is flown,—
In ilk town and clachan your pipes loudly blaw,
For the brow-beating, nose-grinding cut-throat 's awa'.
Come, Europe and Africa, sing, too, wi' glee,
You now have some chance, if you wish to be free,
For the deadliest enemy freedom e'er saw,
The man-dealing, slave-selling cut-throat 's awa'.
This Upas of Freedom, with influence fell,
Spread mair desolation than tongue can e'er tell,
For wherever her soul-cheering blossoms would blaw,
If his power could but reach them, they wither'd awa'.
So prone to destroy was this demon of blight,
That whatever he touched he destroyed it outright;
And when nought else was left for his withering paw,
He destroyed his vile self—cut his throat, and awa'.
Spread mair desolation than tongue can e'er tell,
For wherever her soul-cheering blossoms would blaw,
If his power could but reach them, they wither'd awa'.
So prone to destroy was this demon of blight,
That whatever he touched he destroyed it outright;
And when nought else was left for his withering paw,
He destroyed his vile self—cut his throat, and awa'.
12
The precious hole-digger at last dug a hole
So wide, that it let out his crime-clotted soul,
And so deep that it ne'er could be filled up ava,
So, just like a thief, he sneaked meanly awa'.
Stern Justice decreed, and himself struck the blow,
That should have been dealt him twice ten years ago;
For the strong and the terrible arm of the Law,
Ne'er reached a delinquent like him that's awa.'
So wide, that it let out his crime-clotted soul,
And so deep that it ne'er could be filled up ava,
So, just like a thief, he sneaked meanly awa'.
Stern Justice decreed, and himself struck the blow,
That should have been dealt him twice ten years ago;
For the strong and the terrible arm of the Law,
Ne'er reached a delinquent like him that's awa.'
Let his friends toast his memory as oft as they please,—
Like the Pittites of Gotham, too, do't on their knees.
'Bout a' his great actions fu' loud let them craw,
And copy his last—'twas the best o' them a'.
Success to the Jew-boy, good sale for his knives,
They're the things can rid tyrants of guilt-loaded lives;
And if on his tramps at Verona he'd ca',
Gude send him brisk sale for a dozen or twa!
Like the Pittites of Gotham, too, do't on their knees.
'Bout a' his great actions fu' loud let them craw,
And copy his last—'twas the best o' them a'.
Success to the Jew-boy, good sale for his knives,
They're the things can rid tyrants of guilt-loaded lives;
And if on his tramps at Verona he'd ca',
Gude send him brisk sale for a dozen or twa!
| Stray Leaves from the Portfolios of Alisander the Seer, Andrew Whaup, and Humphrey Henkeckle | |