(A long way after Lord Tennyson.)
Glory of Irishman, glory of orator, going it strong, Paid by his countrymen's mites from across the Atlantic Sea— Glory of Pat, to spout, to struggle, right Ireland's old wrong! Nay, but they aim not at glory, or Home Rule (swears Wolmer, swears he): Give 'em the glory of living on us and our L. S. D.! The wages of swells are high; if high wage to a Minister's just. Shall we have the heart low wages to hard-worked M.P.'s to deny? Mercenaries? What then are those toffs in high places of trust, Who live on our golden largess? Will Wolmer inform us just why We may give wages to Wealth, and not unto Poverty? |