All the Tories, Staffy, will obstruct it with a will, And the swift foot and the slow foot will mash and maul the bill; And the G.O.M. will fret and fume like fizz when you draw the cork, For I'm to be Cock o' the Walk, Staffy, I'm to be Cock o' the Walk. GOSSAMER. THE PREMIER TO MRS. GLADSTONE. You must wake me in the morning, rouse me early, wifey, dear; To-morrow'll be a ticklish time at Westminster, I hear; At Westminster, the Franchise Bill will glide upon its way, And I shall have something to say, deary, I shall have something to say. There's many a black-legged Tory who would frustrate our design-- There's Northcote and there's Goschen, who was once a friend of mine; But none, I think, will stand their ground if I can get fair play, For they know it is true what I say, deary, they know it is true what I say. I sleep so light of late, wifey, that bedtime comes in vain, They've bored me so with Gordon that I've Egypt on the brain: Yet I'll regain these wasted hours--this loss of time won't pay-- And show that I mean what I say, deary, show that I mean what I say. * * * * * JESSIE H. WHEELER. _The Weekly Dispatch_, May 4, 1884. * * * * * THE PROMISE OF MAY! (_An Old Song re-set, and specially dedicated, for purposes of recitation, to Mrs. Bernard-Beere, Manageress of the Globe Theatre_). YOU must call rehearsals early, call them early, KELLY dear! November'll be the merriest month of our dramatic year; November I have fixed it for the Laureate's new play, And I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of May! There's many a chosen priestess in the wild æsthetic line. There's ELLEN! and there's MARION! whose fingers intertwine! But all the Grosvenor Gallery think none like me, they say; So I'm to be Promise of May, KELLY, I'm to be Promise of May! I'm thinking of _the_ night, you know, both sleeping and awake, And I hear them calling loudly till their voices seem to break; But I must fashion lots of gowns in Liberty silks so gay, For I'm to be Promise of May, my Lad, I'm to be Promise of May! I went down into Surrey--don't laugh, it is no joke-- And found the great Bard dramatist wrapt in a cloak--of smoke! He handed me his manuscript, and read it yesterday; So I'm to be Promise of Maytime, I'm to be Promise of May! He said I was ideal, because I kept it up, This mixture of his _Dora_, and his _Camma_ in the _Cup_. They call me a _replica_, but I care not what they say. Now I'm to be Promise of May, you see, I'm to be Promise of May! They say he's pining still for fame; but that can never be. He likes to roar his lyrics, but what is that to me? I'll fill the Globe with worshippers, in the old Lyceum way-- For I'm to be Promise of May, my Friend, I'm to be Promise of May!