Stinkomalee Triumphans

A poem by Richard Harris Barham

Whene'er with pitying eye I view
Each operative sot in town.
I smile to think how wondrous few
Get drunk who study at the University we've Got in town,

What precious fools 'The People' grew,
Their alma mater not in town;
The 'useful classes' hardly knew
Four was composed of two and two,
Until they learned it at the University we've Got in town.

But now they're taught by Joseph Hume, by far the cleverest Scot in town,
Their items and their tottles too
Each may dissect his sister Sue,
From his instructions at the University we've Got in town.

Then L—E comes, like him how few
Can caper and can trot in town,
In pirouette or pas de deux
He beats the famed Monsieur Giroux,
And teaches dancing at the University we've Got in town.

And Gilchrist, see, that great Gentoo
Professor, has a lot in town of Cockney boys, who fag Hindoo,
And larn Jem-nasties at the University we've Got in town.

Sam R— corpse of vampire hue,
Comes from its grave, to rot in town;
For Bays the dead bard's crowned with Yew,
And chaunts the Pleasures of the University we've Got in town.

Frank Jeffrey, of the Scotch Review,
Whom Moore had nearly shot in town,
Now, with his pamphlet stitched in blue
And yellow, d—ns the other two,
But lauds the ever-glorious University we've Got in town.

Great Birkbeck, king of chips and glue,
Who paper oft does blot in town,
From the Mechanics' Institution, comes to prate of wedge and screw,
Lever and axle, at the University we've Got in town.

LORD Waithman, who long since withdrew
From Mansion House to cot in town;
Adorn'd with chair of ormolu.
All darkly grand, like Prince Lee Boo,
Lectures on Free Trade at the University we've Got in town.

Fat F—, with his coat of blue,
Who speeches makes so hot in town,
In rhetoric, spells his lectures through,
And sounds the V for W,
The vay they speaks it at the University we've Got in town.

Then H—e comes, who late at New-gate-market, sweetest spot in town!
Instead of one clerk popped in two,
To make a place for his nephew,
Seeking another at the University we've Got in town.

There's Captain Ross, a traveller true,
Has just presented. what in town
's an article of great virtu,
(The telescope he once peep'd through,
And 'spied an Esquimaux canoe
On Croker Mountains), to the University we've Got in town.

Since Michael gives no roast nor stew,
Where Whigs might eat and plot in town,
And swill his port, and mischief brew,
Poor Creevy sips his water gruel as the beadle of the University we've Got in town.

There's Jerry Bentham and his crew,
Names ne'er to be forgot in town,
In swarms like Banquo's long is-sue,
Turk, Papist, Infidel, and Jew,
Come trooping on to join the University we've Got in town.

To crown the whole with triple queue
Another such there's not in town,
twitching his restless nose askew,
Behold tremendous Harry Brougham!
Law Professor at the University we've Got in town.

Grand Chorus:

Huzza! Huzza! for Harry Brougham!
Law Professor at the University we've Got in town.

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