SEE us here, in jubilation,
A brand-new Association.
Still, the truth to tell, although
What we want we don't quite know.
We are bound the world to wake,
If sufficient noise we make.
Hail our programme then with bliss,
Which is, briefly stated, this:
No longer we'll trust representative nous,
But force for ourselves Parliamentary gates,
As Members we'll take our own seats in the House,
And have our expenses paid out of the rates.
A LOCAL RATEPAYER (_andante_).
Nay, nay! To take your seats, you're free,
But not, oh! not, to burthen me!
Enough am I already charged,
And would not see the sum enlarged,
Your pay,--that is your own affair;
I care not whence it emanates:
I only most distinctly swear,
You shall not get it from the rates.
CHORUS (_advancing on him threateningly_).
Be still, and know that the whole nation,
Bows down to the Association!
[_The Local Ratepayer cowers before them._
And yet this question of the land
We own we don't quite understand.
Is there no specialist who'll try
To make it clear?
_Enter_ Mr. JOSEPH ARCH. _He bounds into their midst._