Broadside ballad entitled 'Lochiel's Warning (New Version)'

Transcription

LOCHIEL'S   WARNING.

(NEW   VERSION.)
Respectfully Dedicated to the Electors of Inverness-shire.

W I Z A R D.

LOCHIEL ! LOCHIEL ! beware of the day
When Sir Kenneth shall meet you in battle array ;
The close of the struggle looms clear on my sight,
And the ranks of the Tories are scattered in flight.
The " Peace with Honour " bluster loudly they sound,
And boast of annexing the countries all round ;
But the voters won't listen to big blatant strains,
And the flag of Sir Kenneth waves free o'er the plains.

L O C H I E L.

Go preach to the coward thy tidings of gloom !
Knowest not, that the Cameron's Her Majesty's groom ?
But, " By Jingo," in case that thy vision comes true,
I'll send for some faggots to Father Buccleuch.

W I Z A R D.

Ah, laughest thou, Loehiel, my vision to scorn !
Fond hope of the Tories, thy wings shall be shorn !
Too soon in the fight shall thy proud spirit quail,
When opposed by Sir Kenneth, the friend of the Gael.
At his fair manly views how our hearts swell with pride,
Whilst your arrogant claims we can only deride.
By abuse and insult you can ne'er hope to win,
Or to tell you support the notorious John Dunn.
I tell you, Lochiel, you may stand in your might,
But You hinder the progress of reason and right;
Your great love for fanners they know is a ruse,
Since it blooms of a sudden, when Kenneth they choose ;
The great Chief of Gairloch they trust without fear?
He will ne'er change his farms into forests for deer ;
But thou, Oh Lochiel, were thy politics right,
Thy flag would be still on our battlement height ;
But now every hill top with embers do burn
From bonfires that tell of Sir Kenneth's return.

        L O C H I E L.

False Wizard, avaunt !   I have marshalled my clan,
With coaxing and threatening they'll plump to a man,
Bound down by the factors, they don't rightly guess
They can vote as they please without losing their lease.

Then welcome be Kenneth's array to the shock,
He will find that my seat is as firm as a rock ;
But woe to his vaunting, and woe to his cause,
Hypothec won't help him, or yet the Game Laws,
When forth goes the scum of the great Tory tribe?
Moll'son the upstart, and Innes the scribe,
All paid by the " Fund " at five guineas a-day??

W I Z A R D.

? Lochiel, Lochiel ! in vain you may bray,
And 'gainst the great Gladstone your noddle array ;
But your facts and your figures are grossly untrue,
No matter how deftly you bring them to view ;
Your pet rule of three is, War, Wanton, and Waste,
Till our commerce is ruined, our good name disgraced ;
While Europe is chuckling, and pointing with scorn
At this Jew-ridden nation, now bleeding and torn.
But the Liberals are armed, and thy cause is undone,
Though perchance you may bask in the Beaconsfield sun,
Even he, the " Immaculate's," reign will be o'er,
And Peace come with Plenty to bide on our shore.

L O C H I E L .

Down, daring insulter !   I trust not thy tale,
For ne'er shall my party a destiny meet
So black with dishonour, such a signal defeat.
I admit that our farmers of hard times complain :
But success crown'd our arms in the Afghan campaign:
You say that our prisons with bankrupts are filled :
What of that! let's remember the Zulus we killed !
'Tis true that our soldiers lie strew'n in their gore,
Through our mania for plunder, on many a shore.
Still, things might be worse ! and we hope yet to steer
Back to power on an ocean of publican beer.
Besides, by the favour of mighty Buccleuch,
Fair hopes of the peerage oft rise to my view.
But should Gairloch win, and my plume be laid low,
The loss of my pension will be a sad blow ;
And having no longer M.P. to my name,
Farewell to the " Groomship," and farewell to fame.

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