So I'm Tould.

A Provincial Lamintashun.

Och, faix, we're goin' to the wall,
What will we do at all, at all,
The Provinces will surely fall,
An' we'll be in the could.
Av course I mane, when I say we,
Sir George, an' Mac, an' Fitz, an' me,
An' all the Supers, d'-ye-see—
Begorra, so I'm tould!

I went, to hear Sir Jool-yus spout,
An' 'pon me sowl, without a doubt,
Be gog, he bates us out an' out,
So brazen an' so bould.
When he was lavin' home, 'tis known,
He wint and kissed the Blarney stone,
At Blarney Castle, where 'tis grown—
Begorra, so I'm tould!

The curse o' Crummull on the hour
We put the varmint into power,
Och, boys, it makes me timper sour
To think how we've been sould.
He ses New Zayland will be grate,
By making it one moighty State,
The blackguard's full o' vain concaite—
Begorra, so I'm tould?

He'd put aitch Super out o' place,
An' rob aitch Spaker av his mace,
Och, whin I think on sich disgrace,
Me timper I can't hould.
On winther nights where will we go
To spind an hour, I'd like to know,
For Council blasts no more will blow—
Begorra, so I'm tould!

But rethribution's close at hand,
Wid soords an' muskets we will stand;
Aitch man in our Provincial band
Is cast in honor's mowld.
We'll not submit to ayquil rights,
We want our own Provincial fights,
An' Council gas on winther nights—
Begorra, so I'm tould.