To thunder o'er the _Grande Chaudière_,
At the great Union celebration,
The new bridge's inauguraton;
One thing is certain, those brass guns
Were ne'er seen more by Richmond's sons.
They fell prey to official nabbing,
And Governmental red tape grabbing,
Like plunder from the vanquished harried,
To Montreal off they were carried!
Malloch was member many a year
For Carleton when votes were not dear--
When damaged eyes, and smashed proboscis
Would follow, as the smallest losses.
The offer of a vile bank note
As price of an elector's vote.
Gold, said the sage, perhaps 'twas law,
On Dian's lap the snow can thaw;
And gold has purchased many a seat
Where the "collective wisdom" meet,
And many go to represent
The weight of cash corrupt which sent
Them wandering wickedly astray
From honor's seldom trodden way.
Where now, is Turner, who of yore,
Kept school near the old Ottawa's shore?
And Heath who came across the line
In able teaching here to shine?
And old John Stilman, who shoes made,
And flourished in St. Crispin's trade?
William McCullough, where is he?