Proposals For A Gynaecocracy. Addressed To A Late Radical Meeting.

A poem by Thomas Moore

--"quas ipsa decus sibi dia Camilla
delegit pacisque bonas bellique ministras."

As Whig Reform has had its range,
And none of us are yet content,
Suppose, my friends, by way of change,
We try a Female Parliament;
And since of late with he M.P.'s
We've fared so badly, take to she's--
Petticoat patriots, flounced John Russells,
Burdetts in blonde and Broughams in bustles.

The plan is startling, I confess--
But 'tis but an affair of dress;
Nor see I much there is to choose
'Twixt Ladies (so they're thorough-bred ones)
In ribands of all sorts of hues,
Or Lords in only blue or red ones.

At least the fiddlers will be winners,
Whatever other trade advances
As then, instead of Cabinet dinners
We'll have, at Almack's, Cabinet dances;
Nor let this world's important questions
Depend on Ministers' digestions.

If Ude's receipts have done things ill,
To Weippert's band they may go better;
There's Lady **, in one quadrille,
Would settle Europe, if you'd let her:
And who the deuce or asks or cares
When Whigs or Tories have undone 'em,
Whether they've danced thro' State affairs,
Or simply, dully, dined upon 'em?

Hurrah then for the Petticoats!
To them we pledge our free-born votes;
We'll have all she, and only she--
Pert blues shall act as "best debaters,"
Old dowagers our Bishops be,
And termagants our agitators.
If Vestris to oblige the nation
Her own Olympus will abandon
And help to prop the Administration,
It can't have better legs to stand on.
The famed Macaulay (Miss) shall show
Each evening, forth in learned oration;
Shall move (midst general cries of "Oh!")
For full returns of population:
And finally to crown the whole,
The Princess Olive, Royal soul,[1]
Shall from her bower in Banco Regis,
Descend to bless her faithful lieges,
And mid our Union's loyal chorus
Reign jollily for ever o'er us.

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