My father and grandfather gone
Once trod your city sad;
Now I the daring deed have done,
And--it is not half bad.
That Opera Show was quite a sight;
Your Sheriff HARRIS--well--
AUGUSTUS, after Actium's fight,
Was scarce a greater swell.
The long parade, led by the Blues,
Gave _me_ the blues again.
Not that the citizen were screws,
No, Grand'ma, 'twas that rain!
I--ahem! _blessed_ it fervently,
Emperors must not complain;
But do, _do_ keep your Babylon dry,
When I come back again.
For Garden Parties, Shows, Reviews,
And civic functions pale,
When water soaks the stoutest shoes,
And it blows half a gale.
Your Lord MAYOR and his liveried lot,
_They_ know a thing or two.
Speeches of course are always rot,
But then--the skies were blue!
As for your Crystal Palace--ah!
Your pride I would not shock,
But you owe much, dear Grandmamma,
To PAXTON and to BROCK.
Your warriors are fine, if few;
But still, if you ask _me_,
You leave far too much power to
A Railway Company.
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