Next come the presents--Whitechapel (where Jewsbury) Sends needles to hem Dr. Fellowes's lawn; Cracknells from Cowes--sweet simnels from Shrewsbury-- Rump-steaks from Dublin--and collars of brawn-- A pig--and a blanket-- A sturgeon from Stangate-- The donors all thank-ed By Royal desire! Old Parr gave his benison To Parkins's venison, But the pamphlet of Tennyson He threw in the fire. Last came the Lack-wit address of Sir Bunbury, Bearding the Crown with his sinecure wrath! 'Twould look, I fear, too like a libel, to unbury All the exploits of this Knight of the Bath: From service retreated; By Wilson out-prated; Like him, self-created; His star is his sin! It's splendour is lost in The honours of Austin, And Hownam, who crost in With faint-away Flynn! And now, e'er I send off my song to the town sellers, ('Twill fetch rather more than the speeches of Hume,) We'll give one huzza to her pure privy Councillors, Lushington, Williams, Wilde, Denman and Brougham. With Vizard and Cobbett, And Hunt who would mob it, And Cam who would job it As Dad did before; With Waithman the prate-man, And Pearson the plate man, And Matthew the great man, Who found us the _hare_.[23] THE CITY CONCERT. "Paulo Minora canemus." _Tune_--"Alley Croker." When Caroline, the great and big, Was feasted in the City, Sir, United Radical and Whig, In malice or in pity, Sir, Invited every Cockney dame The Royal cause to lift on; No matter what her rank or name, If she had but a shift on. Oh! such shifts! the flaunting belles of Drury Are neat to those of Crooked Lane, Ram Alley, and Old Jewry. A few there were, not so obscure, Who boasted of clean linen; But they, as all their friends assure, Were driven by their men, in; Who thought that after such delay The Queen would be extinguish-ed, Unless the blustering _Times_ could say, That some few were "distinguish-ed." Oh, poor _Times_! how sad a scrape you have got in, Whose proud distinction is at best, 'twixt addled eggs and rotten.