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The Spirit of the Nation/The Exterminator's Song

< The Spirit of the Nation

THE EXTERMINATOR'S SONG.

Air—"'Tis I am the Gipsy King."

I.

'Tis I am the poor man's scourge,
And where is the scourge like me?
My land from all Papists I purge,
Who think that their votes should be free—
Who think that their votes should be free!
From huts only fitted for brutes,
My agent the last penny wrings:
And my serfs live on water and roots,
While I feast on the best of good things!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
(Chorus of the Editors of The Nation)
Yes, you are the poor man's scourge!
But of such the whole island we'll purge!


II.

A despot, and strong one, am I,
Since a Drummond no longer is here,
To my "duties" to point ev'ry eye,
Though of "rights" I wish only to hear—
Though of "rights" I wish only to hear!
If conspiracies I apprehend,
To throw off my rack-renting rule,
For a "Special Commission" I send,
To my friends of the old Tory school!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
(Chorus of the Editors of The Nation)
Yes, you are the poor man's scourge!
But of such the whole island we'll purge!


III.

I prove to the world I'm a man,
In a way very pleasant to show;
I debauch all the tenants I can,
And of b——ds I have a long row—
And of b——ds I have a long row!
My cottiers must all cringe to me,
Nor grudge me the prettiest lass;
Or they know very well that they'll see
Their hovels as flat as the grass!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
(Chorus of the Editors of The Nation)
Yes, you are the poor man's scourge!
But of such the whole island we'll purge!


IV.

If O'Connor my right should deny, sir,
To "do what I like with my own!"
For the rascal I've soon a reply, sir,
Into gaol for "sedition" he's thrown—
Into gaol for "sedition" he's thrown!
The Tariff is bringing rents down—
Yet more cash from the farmer I'll squeeze;
And, for fear of being shot, come to town
To drink, game, and intrigue, at my ease!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
For I am the poor man's scourge!
(Chorus of the Editors of The Nation)
Yes, you are the poor man's scourge,
But of such the whole island we'll purge.