The Press.
London, England, 1855-01-27 00:00:00

IMmimiseffiNMlME

THE PRESS.

SATURDAY.

Of the beasts who eat thistles instead of hay,
That the Sunderland voters swore that they
Would give my gentleman his conge.
And (capital sequel to the play !)
This noisy Irishman, loud and gay,
Can no longer vote either No or Aye ;
But to dull Newcastle, without delay,
Must be off on his unsought holiday—
And very devoutly the Commons pray
He may bide in that borough in vecula.
But I said, or at least I meant to say,
That the bill liad been passed a month and a day.
Yet who are the foreigners stout and bravo
Who rush our country's honour to save ?
For you know—that is, if a Whig, you do,
Or a Peelite (the rather worse thing of the two)—
That we ourselves of English blood,
Tho' tradition tells us we have withstood
The foe and the tyrant, are grown so tame
We have only the manhood to watch the game ;
The players must be of foreign mould,
And England do nothing but find the gold.
Well, whom have we got, again I say,
To do our fighting and pocket our pay ?
I'll tell you, good folks, as well as I may.
Here are the letters ce cher Lord A.
Received from his agents across the sea,
In Switzerland, Belgium, and Italy.
" Switzerland, mountain home of the free,—
Such is her title in poetry,
Though in prose that region of liberty
Sells her best blood impartially
To every minion of tyranny.
I've seen them in belle Napoli
Republican guardians of Royalty ;
As satraps, too, of the Holy See,
We may style them its guardie ignobi2i,
Faith and honour all fiddle-de-dee
Compared to Pope Pius's L.S.D.
You would think, my Lord, such fellows as these
Would have hopped to our standard as brisk as fleas,
Or as mites in an overkept Stilton cheese.
But the' at our pay they can hardly sneeze,
Sorra a Switzer will cross the seas.
Not sea sickness alone they fear,
Though the voyage, no doubt, would make them queer;
But they like their bread, and their meat, and beer ;
And though they might get them over here,
They say that once in the wild Crimea-r
They would be no better off than we are.
And one of their leaders, a grim old wight
Of the school of Sir Dugald Dalgetty, Knight,
Told me—" Mein himmel! we're ready to fight
For a good paymaster from morn to night,
Nor trouble our heads about wrong or right ;
But we cannot consent to go pied nue
And be starved to death while your Duke of New
Castle is trying how many or few
Bundles of lint divided in two
It would take to reach from Richmond to Kew.
Your soldiers may bear it, and, entre nous,
'Tis strange what those fellows of yours go through ;
But they can afford to be staunch and true,
For they have a Queen and a country too
Who'll see them righted; but such a crew
As we should appear in your soldiers' view,
Donmer and blitzen. ! what should we do ?
Die like dogs. No patriot glow
Could warm our hearts in the storm and snow,
Or nerve us to stand against the foe
Without reinforcements from England ; so
I'll wish you good morning, the thing's no go,
We can do without honour, but must have do !
Then away he stalked on his martial boots,
And with him all hopes of our Swiss recruits.
" From Belgium, however, good news ! brave news
I've got six fellows in cap and blouze.
The police describe them as mauvais gueux,
And picked them out of the lowest stews,
And said " Les void, now pick and choose ;
Every one at a barricade,
In Paris or Berlin, has lent his aid,
And only fled when the helm and blade
Of the soldiers were seen, then Who's afraid ?'
They cried to their comrades, and, undismayed
By the curses of those they had there betrayed,
Away they retreated to drive their trade
In some other capital. Don't be afraid
At their fierce moustachios and savage glare
Of their restless eyes—a beard and a stare
Is a sort of uniform these men wear.
Women and children may well beware
These ruffians' glances; a man may dare
The worst they can do. You have them there,
Six prime fellows to rob and swear,
Or sack a wino-cellar. No matter where
You send these fellows ; I'm free to dealers