And the Council's a thorn in your side, perhaps;
But let them grumble and growl their fill,
You know very well their power is nil.
Look at the schedules by which, 'tis clear,
You handle a monstrous sum each year;
Look at the patronage thrown in your gift;—
To give your backers a solid lift.
Look at the power you have to draw
On Downing-street when you want a new law;
Look at the lands that are unlocated,
Where droits of the crown are so nicely created;—
Then calmly proceed. * * * * *
Subdue by degrees, and slowly oppress,
Or I tell you you'll get yourself into a mess.
While people petition they'll find it a sell,
But don't push them too hard they might rebel.

Rebellion here—a mere puff of smoke—
A handful of troops would put them down,
And the higher classes would join the crown.

Who'll come to be losers in the end?
No doubt ther'd be fun well worth enjoying,—
Burning, and plundering, and destroying;
Fighting for towns not worth disputing;
Skirmishing, robbing, and rifle-shooting
From bushes and trees, and rock for barriers;
Murdering of postboys and plundering of carriers
Storming of camps by midnight entries,
Driving off horses and popping off sentries;
Seizures of stock for purposes royal;
Pressing of men to make them loyal.
Some heroes might fall in that petty strife,
Whom bondage had taught a contempt for life;
Some patriots leading in civil storms,
Might dangle on gibbets their martyr forms;
Or exiled afar, to return no more,
Might bury their bones on a foreign shore,
Proscribed by the tyrants they dared to brave,
And mocked by the people they sought to save.
But not in vain would they bear and bleed;
This land would have gained what most they need ;
John Bull from his drowsy indifference waking,
Would give you small despots a terrible shaking;
You'd be robbed of your berth and your reputation,
For causing your masters so much vexation.^[1]