Some King will come, in Heaven's good time, To the tomb his Father came to; Some Thief will wade through blood and crime To a crown he has no claim to; Some Suffering Land will rend in twain The manacles that bound her, And gather the links of the broken chain To fasten them proudly round her; The grand and great will love, and hate, And combat, and combine; And much where we were in Twenty-eight, We shall be in Twenty-nine. O'Connell will toil to raise the Rent, And Kenyon to sink the Nation; And Sheil will abuse the Parliament, And Peel the Association; And the thought of bayonets and swords Will make ex-Chancellors merry-- And jokes will be cut in the House of Lords, And throats in the County Kerry; And writers of weight will speculate On the Cabinet's design-- And just what it did in Twenty-eight, It will do in Twenty-nine. Mathews will be extremely gay, And Hook extremely dirty; And brick and mortar still will say "Try Warren, No. 30;" And "General Sauce" will have its puff, And so will General Jackson-- And peasants will drink up heavy stuff, Which they pay a heavy tax on; And long and late, at many a fête, Gooseberry champagne will shine-- And as old as it was in Twenty-eight, It will be in Twenty-nine. And the Goddess of Love will keep her smiles; And the God of Cups his orgies; And there'll be riots in St. Giles, And weddings in St. George's; And Mendicants will sup like Kings, And Lords will swear like Lacqueys-- And black eyes oft will lead to rings, And rings will lead to black eyes; And pretty Kate will scold her mate. In a dialect all divine-- Alas! they married in Twenty-eight,-- They will part in Twenty-nine! John Thomas Mugg, on a lonely hill, Will do a deed of mystery-- The Morning Chronicle will fill Five columns with the history; The Jury will be all surprise, The Prisoner quite collected-- And Justice Park will wipe his eyes, And be very much affected; And folks will relate poor Corder's fate, As they hurry home to dine, Comparing the hangings of Twenty-eight With the hangings of Twenty-nine. A Curate will go from the house of prayer To wrong his worthy neighbour, By dint of quoting the texts of Blair, And singing the songs of Weber; Sir Harry will leave the Craven hounds, To trace the guilty parties-- And ask of the Court five thousand pounds, To prove how rack'd his heart is: An Advocate will execrate The spoiler of Hymen's shrine-- And the speech that did for Twenty-eight Will do for Twenty-nine.