“And who be you would pass ‘Repeal’ _My own peculiar treasure_?” “Oh! I’m the man, ye ken full weel, That does just what’s my pleasure. And fast before the _farmers’ friends_, I’ve fled in _your direction_―― And, should they gain their private ends, My bill would meet rejection!” “George Bentinck follows fast along, From him great harm I feel, Sir, And, should he prove so _very_ strong, Oh! who could rescue Peel, Sir?” Out spoke the hardy Leaguer, then―― “I’ll help ye, Peel, I’m ready―― It is not for _yourself_, ye ken, But for the League so seedy! “And, by my word, the Cotton Lords In danger shall not tarry―― And, tho’ the farmers whet their swords, Your measure I will carry!” “Then haste ye, haste, and no more words, Nor wait till it be calmer―― I’ll meet the raging of the Lords, But not an angry farmer!” The stormy Council Peel has left, A stormy House before him―― And see, the Tories, all a drift, Have soon begun to bore him. Yet still he waged the wordy war, With foemen justly railing―― Lord Stanley ventured to the “Bar,” From wrath he turned to wailing. For on that night in dismal plight, Sir Peel he saw to sob then―― One hand out-stretched for aid to Bright, And one was round his Cobden! “Go hence, go hence,” he cried in grief, Across the stormy lobby, “We’ll ne’er forgive our turn-coat chief, Sir Bobby, Oh! Sir Bobby!” ’Twas true――the turn-coats vainly rave, Protection’s friends preventing, The Tories brave kick’d out the knave, And he was left repenting. From _Protectionist Parodies_, by “A Tory.” Oxford, J. Vincent, 1850. ――――:o:―――― JOHN THOMPSON’S DAUGHTER. A Fellow near Kentucky’s clime, Cries, “Boatman, do not tarry, And I’ll give thee a silver dime To row us o’er the ferry.” “Now, who would cross the Ohio, This dark and stormy water?” “O, I am this young lady’s beau, And she, John Thompson’s daughter. “We’ve fled before her fathers’ spite With great precipitation, And should he find us here to-night, I’d lose my reputation. “They’ve missed the girl and purse beside, His horsemen hard have pressed me, And who will cheer my bonny bride, If yet they shall arrest me?” Out spoke the boatman then in time, “You shall not fail, don’t fear it; I’ll go, not for your silver dime, But for your manly spirit. “And by my word, the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; For though a storm is coming on, I’ll row you o’er the ferry.”