Ignis Fatuus

Weep, weep, each loyal partisan, For Buckley, king of hearts; A most accomplished man; a man Of parts--of foreign parts.

Long years he ruled with gentle sway, Nor grew his glory dim; And he would be with us to-day If we were but with him.

Men wondered at his going off In such a sudden way; 'Twas thought, as he had come to scoff He would remain to prey.

Since he is gone we're all agreed That he is what men call A crook: his very steps, indeed, Are bent--to Montreal.

So let our tears unhindered flow, Our sighs and groans have way: It matters not how much we Oh!-- The devil is to pay.