Then we have the Nationalist Party. I am rather vague about the National Party, but I know they are frightfully military, and they keep on having Mass Rallies in Kensington--complete with drums, I expect. Where all the masses come from I don’t quite know, as a prolonged search has failed to reveal anyone who knows anyone who is actually a member of the party. Everybody tells me, though, that there is at least one Brigadier-General (Tempy.) mixed up with it, if not two, and at least one Lord, though possibly one of the Brigadiers is the same as the Lord; but after all they represent the Nation, so they ought to have a song. They have nothing but “Rule Britannia” now, I suppose. Their song goes to the tune of “The British Grenadiers.” I have written it as a duet, but no doubt other parts could be added if the occasion should ever arise.[2] [2] I understand that it has not arisen. On the contrary.... THE NATIONAL. Air--_The British Grenadiers_. Some talk of Coalitions, Of Tories and all that; They are but cheap editions Of the one and only Nat.; Our Party has no equals, Though of course it has its peers, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row For the British Brigadiers. You have no idea how difficult it is to write down the right number of _rows_ first time; however I daresay the General wouldn’t mind a few extra ones. We represent the Nation As no one else can do; Without exaggeration Our membership is two, We rally in our masses And give three hearty cheers, With a tow, row, row, row, row, row For the National Brigadiers. There could be a great deal more of that, but perhaps you have had enough. Of course, if you don’t think the poetry of my songs is good enough, I shall just have to quote some of “The International” words to show you that it’s the _tune_ that matters. Here you are:-- “Arise! ye starvelings from your slumbers, Arise! ye criminals of want, For reason in revolt now thunders, And at last ends the age of cant.” If people can grow excited singing that, my songs would send them crazy. Then there is the Coalition. I have had a good deal of difficulty about this, but I think that at last I have hit the right note; all my first efforts were too dignified. This goes to a darkie tune:-- THE PIEBALD MARE. Air--_Camptown Ladies_. Down-town darkies all declare, Doo-dah, doo-dah, There never was a hoss like the piebald mare Doo-dah, doo-dah day! One half dark and the other half pale, Doo-dah, doo-dah, Two fat heads and a great big tail, Doo-dah, doo-dah day! _Chorus._ Gwine to run all night, Gwine to run all day! I put my money on the piebald mare Because she run both way. Little old DAVE he ride that hoss, Doo-dah, doo-dah, Where’ll she be if he takes a toss? Doo-dah, doo-dah day! De people try to push him off, Doo-dah, doo-dah, De more dey push de more he scoff, Doo-dah, doo-dah day!