Stray leaves from the portfolios of Alisander the seer, Andrew Whaup, and Humphrey Henkeckle

STRAY LEAVES.
115
For wee Buccleugh is straightway gaun
To keep the Irish down.
An’ lift the tythes—nor let big Dan
Usurp the Croppy Crown.
Then Church and Tythes’ be still the cry;
We’ll let the Rebels feel.
We still have power to crush the fry.
An’ gie them orange Peel.
VERSES,
WRITTEN FOR THE CORONATION OF HER MOST GRACIOUS
MAJESTY, QUEEN VICTORIA.
When beauty, youth, and innocence.
In one fair form are blent.
And that fair form, our vestal Queen,
The peerless Rose of Kent,
Say, where’s the Briton’s heart so cold—
The Briton’s soul so dead.
As not to pour out ardent prayers
For blessings on her head ?
This is the day—the joyous day.
That sees our Lady crowned.
Hence, may not one disloyal heart,
In Albion’s Isles be found;
But may she find in every breast,
An undisputed throne,
And o’er a gallant people reign.
Whose hearts are all her own.