THE LORD MAYOR’S SHOW. Now, ye blue-blooded dustmen, leave your cart’s unsav’ry tail, And you, ye “supes” of noble birth, come don your coats of mail; For Harcourt and his legions and Firth, that recreant knight, Have dared the valiant Griffin and the Turtle to the fight! Now Fowler wipes his reeking brow, while smiles relax his face, For have they not already flinched before his mighty mace? And noble Nottage waves his lens, and seeks the thickest strife, And woe to those who stand to him――he’ll “take ’em from the life”! ―――― But why this shadow o’er the board, this phantom at the feast? The day is won, the foe has fled, his fierce assaults have ceased. Yet still the hollow laugh is forced, as though each heard the cry: “Let’s eat and drink and merry be――to-morrow we must die!” In vain the jewelled cup is passed, the speech and song go round; Each song seems but a requiem, each speech a ghostly sound, While o’er the Master’s anxious face a cloud hangs like a pall; Alas! Belshazzar-Nottage sees――“the writing on the wall!” J. T. WRIGHT. _The Weekly Dispatch._ November 9, 1884. ―――― IRELAND, 1890. Now, glory to the Lord Parnell, from whom all glories are! And feathers for his enemies, and ignominious tar! Now let Tay Pay blow off his steam, and Joseph Gillies prance, And suffer bold O’Brien (Ireland’s lion) to advance! And thou, Old Man, our Grand Old Man, who Erin’s acres bought us, With coin filched from the Sassenach, and confiscation taught us; As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For impotent or dumb are they who wrought our bills annoy. Whiroo! whiroo! Rip up the bond before it be too late, The watchword of New Erin――rip! rip! REPUDIATE! * * * * * Ho! Morley of the mealy mouth; ho! Green and Grand Old Man; Weep, weep, and rend what hair you have for downfall of your plan. Ho! Rothschild lend (or Roseberrie) vast shekels (or pistoles) To lure the Liberal and Rad from ratting at the polls. Oh, loyal members of the League, kneel at his feet and pray For him who with a royal hand hath squared the deal to-day. For the King hath crushed the tyrant bond, the King hath raised the slave, And mocked the counsel of the just, and the valour of the brave. Then glory to the dodgy one who crowned New Erin’s Fate, And raised the cry, “Don’t pay your debts, but rip――REPUDIATE!”