Oh, the Irish M.P.s they are bound for the seas,
to the country of Cleveland and Blaine,
And I hear for a fact, their portmanteaus are packed
and we never shall see them again,
And Hibernia thrills through her valleys and hills
with a passionate cry of farewell,
While the manager weeps as they're paying their bills,
in the "Westminster Palace hotel!

Though he lived all the while in the highest of style
and was fed at his country's expense,
Yet he felt (did the Celt) that in Meshech he dwelt,
and resided in Kedar its tents,
And he yearned in his heart to be playing a part
in a higher and holier sphere—
For his soul was alight with a zeal for the Right
that we cannot appreciate here.

Oh, the story is long of the villainous wrong
he endured from the Sassenach reign,
How he languished for weeks, minus freedom (and breeks),
for supporting the Plan of Campaign;
How, when statesmen arose, to diminish his woes,
and the tide of oppression to stem,
We ejected the friends who promoted his ends,
and refused to be guided by them.

For the Tories have won, and the party is gone
that he ruled with his counsel and swayed,
And there's no one cares that for the suffrage of Pat
or will stoop to solicit his aid:
So the sons of the Gael have determined to sail
for the regions serene of the West,
Where a Balfour's police from their bludgeoning cease,
and the Patriot weary may rest!

'Tis in Congress he'll find the intelligent mind
which is able to probe to the roots
The malignant intrigue that endangers the League,
and M'Carthy's and Dillon's disputes,—
Which is sure to postpone all affairs of its own
and to list to Tim Healy intent
When he takes up the tale of Compulsory Sale,
or complete abolition of rent.

There'll be wigs on the green (as in No. 15)
and the usual trailing of coats,
For I happen to know Mr Redmond will go,
—by a separate service of boats:—
And O'Brien will show, while he jumps on his foe
and his blood fratricidally sheds,
That the Union of Hearts of necessity starts
from a general breaking of heads.

The Hibernian M.P.s are afloat on the seas,
the debates of the West to control,
And the thought of their scheme's a magnificent dream
which may calm our disconsolate soul:
For if ever the Yanks should return them with thanks
and consider their presence a bore,
We have plenty of cranks in the Radical ranks,
and can always supply them with more!