Lay the proud usurper low! Tyrants fall in every foe! Liberty's in every blow!

Forward let us do or die!

Curiously enough one of the earliest Parodies of this Poem is a satirical effusion directed against a victim of foul wrong and oppression, Caroline of Brunswick, wife of George IV., and her sympathisers, Sir John Cam Hobhouse, Joseph Hume, Alderman Wood, and her advocate Henry Brougham (Broom), afterwards Lord Chancellor. Brandenburgh House, at Hammersmith, was the residence of Queen Caroline.

GULLS, who've heard what HOBHOUSE said!

Gulls whom JOSEPH HUME has led !

Who deem that Pater Moore has head

For Plans of Liberty!

Now's the day, and now's the hour,

See the face of GIFFORD lour,
See approach the lawyer's power,
Bags and knavery.

Who'll believe Italian spies?
When honest Times indignant cries,
That all they say are monstrous lies,
Foul conspiracy!

Who for England's Queen so bright,
To purchase Plate subscribes his mite,
Or signs addresses, wrong or right,

To Brandenburgh with me!

By our Wood that shields the Queen,
By our Broom that sweeps all clean,
We will go through thick and thin,
But she shall be free!
Lay her proud accusers low,

Pure she'll prove as "unsunned snow,"
Can we but persuade them so,

Let us on and see!

Now's the day, and now's the hour,
See the front of battle lour,
See approach your tyrant's power,
Chains and slavery!

Who would be a traitor knave?

Who would fill a coward's grave?

Who so base as be a slave?

Traitor, coward, turn and flee!
Who at Liberty's sweet cry
Freedom's sword would raise on high?
Freeman stand, or freeman die,

Hark! your chief cries "on with me!"

By oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

FOLKS who've oft at Dolby's fed!
Folks who've nibbled Batson's bread!
Folks who've ta'en a Huminum's bed!
Come not o'er the sea:
Victuals here are but so, so ;
Hollands, too, run very low;
Scarce is coffee and cocoa;

Sojourn where you be.

Now's the time and now's the hour,
For little bread, there being no flour;
Liberty's a glorious dower-

Though ragged, let's be free!

We will walk the unlopp'd wood,
And taste what Nature grows for food-
Grumbling here does little good!

So hail, glad Liberty!

From The Fancy, a selection from the Poetical remains of the late Peter Corcoran, 1820.

The same volume also contains a poem entitled The Fields of Tothill: A Fragment. This is written in imitation of Lord Byron's Don Juan.

In 1823 the John Bull newspaper contained a parody of "Scots wha hae," entitled "Wilson's Subscription," but the subject is obsolete, and the parody inferior. It commenced :

WHIGS! who have with Michael dined,
Whigs! who have with Bennet whined,
Hasten now to raise the wind,

For a Knight's dismissed.

In the same year another skit at the Whig party appeared. The allusions it contains are to Lord Grey, who eventually passed the Reform Bill, Joseph Hume, the political economist and exposer of Parliamentary corruption; R. Carlile, the publisher of Tom Paine's, and other advanced Radical works; Leigh Hunt, part proprietor of the Examiner, who had been imprisoned for calling the Prince Regent a "Fat Adonis of Fifty"; Henry Hunt, who had suffered a long imprisonment for attending a meeting at Manchester to agitate for the Reform of the House of Commons, in 1819; and Henry Brougham, afterwards Lord Chancellor, who was instrumental in eventually passing that measure.

WHIGS whom Fox and Petty led,
Whigs who under Lord Grey fled,
Welcome, though three in a bed,
To the Treasury :

Now's the day, and now's the hour-

Starve the Tories out of power-
Cent. per cent. their wages lower,
They cannot choose but flee.

Who would be a grumbling knave,
Though but half a loaf he have?
Who prefer to toil and slave

Without pay or fee?

Who in spite of King and Laws,
Faction's darling weapon draws,

Calls Hume's and Bennet's-Freedom's cause,

Let him follow me!

Let Bennet boast his purity

In politics and pedigree,
Talk loud of his nihil-ity,

By long service won.

Let Hume dissect each place and fee,
Each clerk, although a brother he,
And prove that Cocker's Rule of Three
Means only Number One.

Whigs, with Carlile who condole,
Whigs, with Hunt now cheek by jowl,
Whigs, whom Tierney can't control,
And swears at horribly!

Hume vows he has made a breach,
(Not a pair, as hirelings teach),
Out of little Bennet's reach,
By Financery!

Let Wilson rear his fallen crest,
Let Log-Wood's wisdom be confess'd,
Leave Creevey's virtues-to be guess'd,
And Cam to form the line.
Let Brougham be taken off the shelf,
And make his fees from Michael's pelf;
Michael's a host, sirs, in himself,

So-let us in and dine!

By our long and hopeless pains,
By despair of office gains,
We will draw our dearest veins,
But we will get in.

Lay Lord Londonderry low,
Placemen fell at every blow;
Every placeman is our foe;
Let us-pray begin.

SCOTS wha hae the duties paid; Scots wham whiskies aft made glad : Welcome, for the duty's fled,

And it shall be free!

Now's the time and now's the hour;
See the shades of evening lour;
See the streams of toddy pour-
Pledge it three-times-three!

Wha wad be a brandy slave?
Wha wad shilpit claret lave?
Wha of rum wad ever rave?

When the whisky's free? Wha for Scotia's ancient drink, Will fill a bicker to the brink! Scotsmen wake or Scotsmen wink, Aquavitæ aye for me!

By taxation's woes and pains!
By the smuggler's ill-got gains!
We shall raise our wildest strains,
For it shall be free!

Lay the big gin bottle low!
In the fire the port wine throw!
Let the tide of whiskey flow!
Like liberty, aye free!

ROBERT GILFILLAN.

ROASTED SUCKING PIG.

Cooks who'd roast a sucking-pig,
Purchase one not over big;
Coarse ones are not worth a fig
So a young one buy.

See that he is scalded well
(That is done by those who sell),
Therefore on that point to dwell,
Were absurdity.

Sage and bread, mix just enough,
Salt and pepper quantum suff.,
And the Pig's interior stuff,

With the whole combined.
To a fire that's rather high,
Lay it till completely dry;
Then to every part apply

Cloth, with butter lined.
Dredge with flour o'er and o'er,
Till the Pig will hold no more;
Then do nothing else before

'Tis for serving fit-
Then scrape off the flour with care;
Then a butter'd cloth prepare;
Rub it well; then cut-not tear-
Off the head of it.

Then take out and mix the brains
With the gravy it contains ;
While it on the spit remains,
Cut the Pig in two.

Chop the sage, and chop the bread
Fine as very finest shred;

O'er it melted butter spread-
Stinginess won't do.

When it in the dish appears,
Garnish with the jaws and ears;
And when dinner-hour nears,

Ready let it be.

Who can offer such a dish
May dispense with fowl and fish ;
And if he a guest should wish,
LET HIM SEND FOR ME!

"BUNN! WHA HAE,"

BUNN! wha hae wi' Wallace sped, Bunn for whom Bruce oft has led, Bunn whom Jenny Lind doth dread, Strike for victory!

Now's the day and now's the hour, Don't to Lumley's programme cower; See proud Beale approach in power, Back'd by Royalty.

JEWS-as every one has read-
Jews-as Charles Bruce lately said-
Know that you are born and bred
The World's Aristocracie,
Now's the day and now's the hour,
See auld Inglis looking sour;
On you he abuse doth shower-

Inglis, Cant, and Mummerie !

Wha would be a Jew-boy, Jew?
Sell auld almanacks for new,
When he's one of-Bruce says true-
The World's Aristocracie!
Wha for Israel's right, by law,
In the house to sit, will draw-
Member stand, or member fa’—

Son of Judah, on wi' me!

By auld London's streets and lanes,
By great Rothschild's cunning brains,
We will spend our hard earn'd gains
But he shall be an M. P.
Lay our proud opponents low-
Agnewst fall in every foe-
Parliament's in every blow-
Opposition's all my eye!

The Puppet-Show, April 15, 1848.

See the mob, to madness riled
Up the barricades have piled;
In among them, man and child,
Unrelentingly.

Shoot the men! there's scarcely one
In a dozen's got a gun :

Stop them, if they try to run,
With Artillery.

Shoot the boys! each one may grow

Into-of the state-a foe

(Meaning by the state, you know,
My supremacy!)

Shoot the girls and women old!
Those may bear us traitors bold-
These may be inclined to scold.
Our severity,

Sweep the streets of all who may
Rashly venture in the way,
Warning for a future day

Satisfactory.

Then, when still'd is ev'ry voice,
We, the nation's darling choice,
Calling on them to rejoice,

Tell them, FRANCE IS FREE.

WILLIAM E. AYTOUN.

A BRITON'S ADDRESS TO HIS BROTHER COUNTRYMEN.

BRITONS! at your country's call,

Freely live, or bravely fall;
Honour'd death awaits us all,

Death, or glorious victory.

Now's the day, and now's the hour!
See the front of battle lour:

See approach proud Gallia's power-
Gallia! chains and slavery!

Who will be a traitor knave?
Who can fill a coward's grave?
Who so base as be a slave?

Traitor! coward! turn and flee.
No-in this our sacred cause
For Britannia's King and Laws,
Freedom's sword each Freeman draws
'Gainst the insulting enemy.
Who would fear, or who would flee?
Fix'd is Britain's destiny-
DEATH WITH GLORY WELCOME BE,
IF NOT LIFE WITH LIBERTY,
Briton! by thy wife's warm tear,
By thy spotless Daughter's fear,
By thy menac'd Altars swear

THAT THIS ISLAND SHALL BE FREE.

Lay the base Invaders low,
Tyrants fall in every foe.
Freedom hangs on every blow,

Oh! to conquer or to die!

Printed for J. HATCHARD, 190, Piccadilly, Price Threepence per dozen. J. Hales, Old Boswell Court. No date.

WING-KEE-FUM'S

Address to the Patriot's Army.

A Parody, with the above title, was published in Diogenes (a London comic journal), in September,

1853. It was in reference to the Revolution in China against the Tartar dynasty, when the rebels made it incumbent upon their adherents to shave off their pigtails, hitherto the badge of the conquered race. As the parody has little merit or historical interest, the following extracts will suffice:

CUT away! No coward fears

Shall restrain our warlike shears;
We shout defiance in the ears
Of all the Tartar race.
Now the day is nobly won,
Now the deed is nobly done;
We hurl our pigtails, every one,
In the Mantchoo's face!

Victory! our country's free!
The pigtail gone, no longer we
By any alien race shall be

Trampled on-kept down.

The day's our own-we'll wear our hair Just as we please; and boldly swear The Mantchoo's pigtail now shall ne'er Aspire to China's crown.

Who'd be goose enough to shave
When he might the trouble save?
Who'd to custom be a slave,

Lest folks call him, Guy?
Who, from old-established raw,
Fresh blood each day are wont to draw
While scraping at your nether jaw,
Fling your razors by!

By the cuts upon my chin,
By the smarting of my skin,

By the rage it puts me in,

No more shave for me!
Let moustache and whisker grow,
O'er your breast the long beard flow;
Let the barefaced shavers know
What a beard should be!

Diogenes, February, 1854.

TRAVELLERS, WHO'VE SO OFT BEEN BLED.

TRAVELLERS, who've so oft been bled,
When you're poorly lodged and fed,
At the Blue Boar, or King's Head.
Or the Victory;

Ye who've paid a crown, or so,
For a pint of Cape, or sloe,
Join your powers to overthrow

Such cool knavery!

Down with every monstrous tax,
Chambermaids, and lights of wax!
Who will pay for these, I ax,

Shillings two or three?

With each breast the feeling chimes,
Well to punish such foul crimes;
To the castigating Times,

Biffin, write with me!

By the dinners, dear and bad,
By the items, never had,

Charged and paid for, yet too glad

To escape so free,

Deal mine host a deadly blow:
Tell the boots that he may go
To the gentleman below!

Forward--what a spree!

Diogenes, October 15, 1853.

THE CZAR'S ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.

SERFS, wha hae wi' Kut'soff bled!
Serfs, like beasts of burden led,
Though readier far to go to bed-

Come to glorious victory!
Now's the day, and now's the hour ;
Let Europe taste despotic power;
Make the base pretenders cower;

Down with Right and Liberty!
Who will be a traitor knave,
Shun the knout our fathers gave,
And freedom from the Saxon crave?
Patriot rebel, turn and flee !
Who would feast on tallow fat,
Strike a blow at Kalafat!
Cossacks, lick your lips at that ;

Valiant Finsmen, on wi' me!

By our nobles' crafty gains,
By our vassals' cherish'd chains,
We will give our dullest brains;

But we won't, we won't be free!
Lay the Gaul and Saxon low;
Crush a Turk at every blow;
Liberty's our greatest foe!

Diogenes, 1854.

Forward, or you'll all be d—!

There,-I call the whole thing low :
E'en my trumpet I can't blow;
Off! Here, let me gang below-
Steward! Let me do, or die!

Punch, 1882.

When the elephant Jumbo was sent from the Zoological Gardens, London, to the United States he was accompanied by his keeper, Scott, who was with him when he was killed by a locomotive engine.

"SCOTS WHA' ARE."

SCOTS! wha are on oatmeal fed,
Scots! wha sold your Royal Head
To his foeman to behead—

For a mere baubee,
Now's the day and now's the hour
To throw your noble landlord ower,
And bring your Willie into power,
Scotsmen, I am he!

Wha can be a traitor knave?
Wha his chance of power to save
Shame and infamy can brave?
Scotsmen, I am he!

Wha's for Disestablishment?

Wha can't tell whatever's meant

By "Home Rule" and "Don't pay rent," Let him follow me.

By the law of hypothec,

Hung like chains around your neck,
Scotsmen join with me to wreck

The Tory Ministry.

England to the wall may go,

Russia jubilant may crow
O'er her fall. Yet be it so,

March, 1880.

I avenged shall be.

From "They are Five," by W. E.G. (A small collection of Conservative parodies published by David Bogue, London, 1880).

"SCOTT WHA HA';"

Or Jumbo's Address to his Keeper.
SCOTT wha ha' your Jumbo fed,
Scott, wham Jumbo aft hath led,
Soonest mended least that's said

Of your shabby victory!
Wha dare ask how I behave?
Here I'm caged up like a slave ;-
Guess if I'd got loose, a shave

They'd all had to turn and flee!
What's the good of British law?
CHITTY only finds a flaw !-
Though I bang my head half raw,

Their sole game is "On wi' me!"

SALISBURY TO THE CONSERVATIVES.

FRIENDS, by Whig retrenchment bled, Friends, whom Beaconsfield has led, Rally round your Tory head,

On to victory come!

Now's the day and now's the hour,
See the front of Gladstone lour,
See laid low the Caucus' power,
Rads and Brummagem !

Who would come at Bradlaugh's call,
Who would see Great Britain Small,
Who would be a Radical,

Let him turn and flee!

Who "For God and Queen" will cry
Eager he to do as I,
Loyal live and loyal die,

Let him follow me!

By the woes seditions bring,
We would rather have one King
Than five hundred in the ring
Brummagem would give.

Lay the platform-spouters low!
Liberty is ours we know !

Change may tyrants bring and woe!

Change we not and-live!

From A Pen'orth o' Poetry for the Poor. London, 1884.

A CALL TO ARMS.

MEN by wise example led,

From England's greatest statesmen dead; Men whose fathers fought and bled

For England's liberty;

Now's the day and now's the hour,
See the front of battle lour,

Scatter wide the Tory power,

And let us still be free!

Who would be a Jingo knave?
Who would Tory banners wave?
Let him ever be a slave

To Tory tyranny.
Who would justice, right and law,
Free from Tories' greedy maw,
To the poll in thousands draw,
And poll for liberty!

Ere oppression's woes and pains
Load your sons with servile chains,
Poll your full elect'ral gains

To keep the people free ;