A Node To Tom Dick.

Arrah, Tommy, me honey, begorra it's funny
To find ye, me boy, at the top o' the three,
Ye've stuck to yer party, faix, Tommy, me hearty,
An' sure ye're desarvin' an offis, machree;
The Northern dhraimers an' place-huntin' schaimers
Have just now discovered the Ministhry's sick;
They've murther'd the nation wid bad legislashun,
They want consolashun from you, Tommy Dick.

Begorra, I'll wager ye'll dhrill the bould Major
To smite those Amalekites—Ballance an' Mac;
Ye'll find it quite aisy, me jewel an' daisy,
To dhrive ould Sir George an' his Philistines back;
Make Midian thrimble—that's whin ye assimble,—
Jist give thim the chapther an' verses, avick;
Make all Aygipt wondher, wid accints o' tuudher,
An' cross the red say av Piako, Tom Dick.

Jist praich thim some sarraints, an' silence the varmints,
An' av they want garmints jist give them a quote;
Taich Freddy surveyin', whin north av Canaan,
An' av he gits swamped, Tom, jist keep him afloat;
The divil's own play-boys have conquered ould Grey, boys,
But bad as they are ye can save them from Nick;
Yer pals are his own, Tom, an' jist you alone, Tom.
Can chait the ould boy av his lights, Tommy Dick.

Paddy Murphy.