The Chosen One

A candidate came to the west country.
That land of the bold independent and free,
And he stop'd at a borough town.
He'd a twist in his nose, and a squint in each eye,
On his back stood a hump, and his neck stood awry,
And his gait was the gait of a clown.

As he pass'd through the streets with a lop and a stride
The dogs they all bark'd, and the children all cried,
And the women beginning to snivel.
Declared this queer lump was certainly sent
As a sample to earth that he might represent,
The angels and imps of the devil.

He made not a speech, but he drew out a purse,
And signed them to take it for better for worse,
The electors electrified stood,
And cried with delight, 'now tis plain he's a trump
'Whv snarl at a squint or find fault with a hump,
'When you see his intentions are good'

'Let the bells be all rung, proclamation be made,
'The drums be all beaten, the fiddles all played,'
The voters all sung in a breath.
May the pride of the earth in his beauty and might
Still continue our eyes and our ears to delight.
And we will be thankful to death.

by Josias Homely

Comments (1)

voters all sung in a breath. good one..