Humours of '37, Grave, Gay and Grim: Rebellion Times in the Canadas. Robina Lizars

He vowed that he Sir Francis Head

       The use of laws would teach.

      He said he had a plan which should

       The country’s temper try,

       And then he moved him that the House

       Would stop the year’s supply.

      A mighty struggle then arose,

       Of who’d be first to vote;

       For they their lessons well had read

       And knew them all by rote.

      Now up the Speaker of the House

       With hasty step arose,

       A letter from a friend below

       He on the table throws.

      The letter, read, was found to be

       With treason full well pack’d;

       It begg’d that rebels from below

       Might by that House be back’d.

      To print it, it was found too late—

       Alas! they were not able,

       For, dire mischance, some wicked wight

       Had stole it from the table.

      Sir Francis took them at their word—

       He was as quick as they—

       And with a speech that made them wince

       He sent them all away.

      Addresses now from far and near

       To him came pouring in,

       That he would give the people chance

       Of choosing better men.

      And now each Briton’s bosom beat chance

       Right joyous at the thought,

       That they at length had gained the

       Which they so long had sought.

      Our tried and trusty Governor,

       Of rebel well aware,

       Defied their malice, and them told

       “To come on if they dare.”

      Now all around our happy land

       Was heard a joyous shout—

       Of forty-seven, rebels all,

       Full thirty were left out.

      Ex-Speaker Bidwell in the dumps

       Vow’d politics he’d quit;

       For well he know in that there House He never more could sit.

      Mackenzie also lost his place,

       “And whete and phlower” too, Mud Turtle and his hopeful gang Were left their deeds to rue.

      And Loyalty triumphant was

       In almost every place,

       Its bitter foes were left at home

       To batten on disgrace.

      Of Doctor Duncombe must I tell,

       Who off to England hies,

       And thought a wondrous job to work

       By pawning off his lies.

      How, decked with jewels of all kinds,

       He looked so mighty gay,

       And how his name he quickly changed

       When he got well away.

      And how he met with Jocky R.,

       And Josey Hume, also,

       And what a jolly set they were

       When planning what to do.

      And soon they summ’d up all our wants

       The “tottle” for to find;

       Said Josey, “Soon a storm I’ll raise,”

       Said Duncombe, “That is kind.

      “And—for I know you never stick

       At trick’ry or at lie;

       I think we might make out a case

       Twix’t Roebuck, you and I.”

      But when they’d said their utmost say,

       And vented all their spleen,

       The truth it shortly came to light,

       Such things had never been.

      And then Sir Francis high was praised

       And just applauses met,

       And by his King he straightway was

       Created Baronet.

      Not so Lord Gosford, who, intent

       His nat’ral bent to show,

       The titled minion had become

       Of Speaker Papineau.

      In him rebellion evermore

       Was sure to find a friend;

       His only study seemed to be

       His utmost help to lend.

      It happen’d that the rebel gang

       Some resolutions passed,

       To which they swore that they would stick

       Unto the very last.

      And Melbourne then, to ease their fears,

       Three knowing G’s (geese) did send, To see if they could calm the French And make their murmurs end.

      They quickly came, Lord Gosford chief,

       A pretty set were they,

       And Jean Baptiste, he swore outright

       He not a sou would pay.

      Lord Johnny Russell then got wrath,

       And spoke as lion bold,

       That he the money soon should get

       As in the time of old.

      The Frenchmen at St. Charles then

       Did loud assert their right;

       But soon they found ’twas easier far

       To make a speech than fight.

      For quick the Loyalists around

       Their much loved flag did rally,

       The battle-shout was heard throughout

       The broad St. Lawrence valley.

      Corunna’s chieftain, he was there,

       With gallant Wetherall,

       And many loyal men, prepared

       To conquer or to fall.

      How British bayonets did their Work

       Let razed St. Charles tell;

       St. Eustache, also, where in scores

       The dastard rebels fell.

      Of gallant Markham would I sing,

       And others if I could;

       Of Weir, who most inhumanly

       Was murdered in cold blood.

      But soon the traitors were compelled

       With grief to bite the dust;

       They crouched beneath the British flag,

       As every traitor must.

      But where were they, the gallant chiefs, Who led the people on? In vain you searched, for they away To Yankee-land had gone.

      Among the rebels there were found

       Some dozen M.P.P.’s;