Scots! wha are on oatmeal fed, Scots! wha sold your Royal Head To his foeman to behead―― For a mere baubee, Now’s the day and now’s the hour To throw your noble landlord ower, And bring your Willie into power, Scotsmen, I am he! Wha can be a traitor knave? Wha his chance of power to save Shame and infamy can brave? Scotsmen, I am he! Wha’s for Disestablishment? Wha can’t tell whatever’s meant By “Home Rule” and “Don’t pay rent,” Let him follow me. By the law of hypothec, Hung like chains around your neck, Scotsmen join with me to wreck The Tory Ministry. England to the wall may go, Russia jubilant may crow O’er her fall. Yet be it so, I avenged shall be. March, 1850. From “_They are Five_,” by W. E. G. (A small collection of Conservative parodies published by David Bogue, London, 1880). ―――― “SCOTT WHA HA’;” _Or Jumbo’s Address to his Keeper_. Scott wha ha’ your Jumbo fed, Scott wham Jumbo aft hath led, Soonest mended least that’s said Of your shabby victory! Wha dare ask how I behave? Here I’m caged up like a slave;―― Guess if I’d got loose, a shave They’d all had to turn and flee! What’s the good of British law? CHITTY only finds a flaw!―― Though I bang my head half raw, Their sole game is “On wi’ me!” There,――I call the whole thing low: E’en my trumpet I can’t blow; _Off!_ Here, let me gang below―― Steward! Let me do, or die! _Punch_, 1882. When the elephant Jumbo was sent from the Zoological Gardens, London, to the United States he was accompanied by his keeper, Scott, who was with him when he was killed by a locomotive engine. ―――― SALISBURY TO THE CONSERVATIVES. Friends, by Whig retrenchment bled, Friends, whom Beaconsfield has led, Rally round your Tory head, On to victory come! Now’s the day and now’s the hour, See the front of Gladstone lour, See laid low the Caucus’ power, Rads and Brummagem! Who would come at Bradlaugh’s call, Who would see Great Britain Small, Who would be a Radical, Let him turn and flee! Who “For God and Queen” will cry Eager he to do as I, Loyal live and loyal die, Let him follow me! By the woes seditions bring, We would rather have one King Than five hundred in the ring Brummagem would give. Lay the platform-spouters low! Liberty is ours we know! Change may tyrants bring and woe! Change we not and――live! From _A Pen’orth o’ Poetry for the Poor_. London, 1884. ―――― A CALL TO ARMS.