Baiten Again.

Composed In Anticipashun Av Our Defaite.

Och! Geordie, me jewel, 'tis railly too cruel
That we should be baite be this dirty spalpeen
Sure he's a pritindher, an' you're our difindher,
A pathriot thrue, faix ye iver have been;
Wid ardour unquinchin', an' courage unflinchin',
Ye came to the front whin the counthry had lain
In deep destitution, to seek rethribution,
But Geordie, ye divil, we're baiten again.

I don't like the blowin' av Button and Bowen,
An' Whitaker let the cat out o' the bag,
The Vogelite faction have sneered at our action,
We're laughed at, besides, by aitch Government rag
To split up the nation, we've broached Siperation
Our schame looked quite faisable, purty an' plain,
We sthrained ivery muscle an' wint to the tussle——
But Geordie, ye divil, we're baiten again.

Whilst talkin' wid Bobby, just out in the lobby,
Now, who should come up, but the Government whip.
That cunning ould codger, an' newspaper dodger,
Ses, "Paddy, me darlint, 'tis time for a nip".

I couldn't refuse him, so had to excuse him,
To Bellamy's tap thin we wint for a dhrain,
An' Vincent so dhryly thin whispered so slyly,
"Faix, Paddy, yer party is baiten again."

Our Hodgy's a poet, the Vogelites know it,
They thrimbled before his attack in the fray,
They'd change our pavilions to "thirty-nine skillions,'
(Now, railly, that is a poetic iday);
Though Rees loud has spoken, our phalanx is broken,
An' Nemesis Hislop has tundhered in vain,
His grand declamation wont win Siperation—
Och Geordie, ye divil we're baiten again.

Sure Jimmy MacAndy wid blarney is handy,
'Tis he that knows how to bamboozle the mob,
An' Donald, the farmer, has girt on his armour,
An' Caversham Satan is wid us, be gob.
This game av log-rollin' is mighty consolin',
We're marthyrs bound up in a Cinthralist chain;
'Twas all our ambition to crush Abolition,
But Geordie, ye divil, we're baiten again.