A health to Jingo first, and then A health to shell, a health to shot! The man who hates not other men I deem no perfect patriot! To all who hold all England mad We drink; to all who'd tax her food! We pledge the man who hates the Rad! We drink to Bartle Frere and Froude! Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned! To the great cause of Jingo drink, my boys, And the great name of Jingo round and round! To all the Companies that long To rob as folk robbed years ago; To all that wield the double thong, From Queensland round to Borneo! To all that, under Indian skies, Call Aryan man "a blasted nigger;" To all rapacious enterprise; To rigour everywhere, and vigour!-- Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned! To the great name of Jingo drink, my boys, And every filibuster round and round! To all our statesmen, while they see An outlet new for British trade, Where British fabrics still may be With British size all overweighed! Wherever gin and guns are sold We've scooped the artless nigger in; Where men give ivory and gold, We give them measles, tracts, and gin! Drinks all round! Here's to Jingo, King and crowned! To the great name of Jingo drink, my boys, And to Adulteration, round and round. From _The Daily News_, March 17, 1882. * * * * * THE LAUREATE'S LAST LYRIC; OR, NORTHAMPTON' FREEMEN. Come! pledge Northampton, friends, and then A health to Freemen's every guest; He best will serve the race of men Who loves his country's freedom best! May Freedom's reign for ever last, With wider bounds from day to day; He loves the present, not the past, Who breaks the tyrant's chain away! CHORUS--Hands all round! All despotic laws confound! Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends, The hope of Britain round and sound! To all the British hearts, who long Will keep their heart of freedom whole-- To all our noble sons, the strong Of British birth--the men of soul Who rise against coercive wrong, That drags "suspects" untried to gaol, While starving thousands in the realm. Oh! burst the prison of the "Pale." Whatever statesman holds the helm. CHORUS--Hands all round! All despotic laws confound! Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends, The hope of Britain round and sound!