May or may not, and must he not, or must
A member purchase land or heredits –
Grant loans of money, picking up the bits?
Construeth this enactment to extend
To one man ever lending to a friend.
If that the friend shall hap himself to be
A jolly Councillor, as you or me?”
The Town Clerk said, “the Act is not repeated” –
A precious flaw which Gausden had revealed.
So on the latter run, while now and then
His backers tittered. – Merry, merry men!
Then calmly as he rose, so he resumed
His soft-hair cushion, while some others fumed.
But, somewhat quickly popped he on his hat
Forgot to make a motion; down he sat.
Uneasy stood the Mayor in his gown
And wriggled much beneath the civic crown;
The room was hot, his Worship hotter, still,
Choked in the throat by Gausden’s bitter pill.
Brief were his words – such words a thund’ring threat,
Replete with pathos, dignity and heat.
“By Jove! thought he, I am not now a colt,
But lose our harbour? Never! I will bolt –
Cut Majesty – cut office – cut and run –
Rather than see our harbour question done.”
Whereat his lieges rent the very air
With thund’ring plaudits to their valient(sic) Mayor.
The idea was stale – the words not those of Ross –
“My Kingdom, yes my kingdom for a Hoss!”
Then up sprung Howell, bursting with excess;
Pitched into Gausden (verbally you guess);
With trowel high upheld, the chamber rang,
With godlike fury and unmanly slang;
Heaping his hot bricks on Gausden’s head,
(Yet ‘twas apparent Howell was afraid).
“I scorn thy protests! side-winds I deride!
Thy legal quibbles ne’er will I abide!
And this I say [aside and only say,
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