Mackenzie also lost his place, “_And whete and phlower_” too, _Mud Turtle_ and his hopeful gang Were left their deeds to rue. And Loyalty triumphant was In almost every place, Its bitter foes were left at home To batten on disgrace. Of Doctor Duncombe must I tell, Who off to England hies, And thought a wondrous job to work By pawning off his lies. How, decked with jewels of all kinds, He looked so mighty gay, And how his name he quickly changed When he got well away. And how he met with Jocky R., And Josey Hume, also, And what a jolly set they were When planning what to do. And soon they summ’d up all our wants The “tottle” for to find; Said Josey, “Soon a storm I’ll raise,” Said Duncombe, “That is kind. “And--for I know you never stick At trick’ry or at lie; I think we might make out a case Twix’t Roebuck, you and I.” But when they’d said their utmost say, And vented all their spleen, The truth it shortly came to light, Such things had never been. And then Sir Francis high was praised And just applauses met, And by his King he straightway was Created Baronet. Not so Lord Gosford, who, intent His nat’ral bent to show, The titled minion had become Of Speaker Papineau. In him rebellion evermore Was sure to find a friend; His only study seemed to be His utmost help to lend. It happen’d that the rebel gang Some resolutions passed, To which they swore that they would stick Unto the very last. And Melbourne then, to ease their fears, Three knowing G’s (_geese_) did send, To see if they could calm the French And make their murmurs end. They quickly came, Lord Gosford chief, A pretty set were they, And Jean Baptiste, he swore outright He not a sou would pay. Lord Johnny Russell then got wrath, And spoke as lion bold, That he the money soon should get As in the time of old. The Frenchmen at St. Charles then Did loud assert their right; But soon they found ’twas easier far To make a speech than fight. For quick the Loyalists around Their much loved flag did rally, The battle-shout was heard throughout The broad St. Lawrence valley. Corunna’s chieftain, he was there, With gallant Wetherall, And many loyal men, prepared To conquer or to fall. How British bayonets did their Work Let razed St. Charles tell; St. Eustache, also, where in scores The dastard rebels fell. Of gallant Markham would I sing, And others if I could; Of Weir, who most inhumanly Was murdered in cold blood. But soon the traitors were compelled With grief to bite the dust; They crouched beneath the British flag, As every traitor must.