III.
John Bull was a farmer, with cottiers galore—
Stout "chawbacons" once, that like bullocks could roar;
Hard work and low wages, and Peel's sliding scale,
Have pulled down their courage, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
IV.
John Bull was a bruiser, sturdy and stout—
A boisterous bully—at bottom a clout—
For when briskly opposed he was apt to turn tail—
Brother Jonathan fibbed him, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
V.
John Bull was a merchant—many his ships,
His harbours, his dock-yards, and fine building slips;
And the ocean he claimed as his rightful entail—
Monsieur Parley-vous bars that, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
VI.
John Bull had dependencies, many and great—
Rich, fertile, extensive—each one an estate;
But he pilfered and robbed them—wholesale and retail—
The Canadas prove it, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
VII.
Master John in the East has been "going it tight"
(His wont when opponents are slow to show fight)—
Like a Bull in a China shop, whisking his tail—
That splore isn't ended, says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
VIII.
John Bull worshipped fire beneath Indian skies—
Made war upon women, and children likewise—
Razed bazaars, burned cities and forts in detail—
Oh, the barbarous Vandal! says GRAINNE ṀAOL!
IX.
John Bull was a Saint in the Western Clime,
