Ye Gentlemen of England,
Whom once he did deride,
How safe ye are, and how serene,
With JOSEPH on your side.
He talks no more of "Ransom"
('Tis P-e-n-s-i-o-n rather now),
Brum JOE will not go
Where the Hawarden winds do blow;
Where HARCOURT thunders loud and long,
And Gladstonians blare and blow.

The Orchid from his button
JOE's willing to displace,
To take the Primrose posy
That's proffered by Her Grace.
O gentle dame and dainty,
What man could answer "No!"
As you prest to his breast
The most blessed flowers that blow,
The blossoms loved by BEACONSFIELD
The bravest blooms that blow?

O (Brummagem) Tory Beauty,
'Tis yours to consecrate
The holiest Alliance
Our land hath seen of late.
Shall he reject its symbol,
Or answer "Not for JOE!"?
Nay, sweet girl, such a churl