V

CYNICISM

GOOD AND BAD LUCK

GOOD LUCK is the gayest of all gay girls;
Long in one place she will not stay:
Back from your brow she strokes the curls,
Kisses you quick and flies away.

But Madame Bad Luck soberly comes
And stays-no fancy has she for flitting;

Snatches of true-love songs she hums,

And sits by your bed, and brings her knitting.

BANGKOLIDYE

"GIMME my scarlet tie,"

Says I.

"Gimme my brownest boots and hat, Gimme a vest with a pattern fancy,

Gimme a gel with some style, like Nancy,

And then-well, it's gimes as I'll be at,
Seein' as its bangkolidye,"

Says I.

"May miss it, but we'll try,"

Says I.

Nancy ran like a frightened 'en

Hup the steps of the bloomin' styeshun.
Bookin'-orfus at last! Salvyeshun!

John Hay.

Bangkolidye

An' the two returns was five-and-ten.
"An' travellin' mikes your money fly,"

Says I.

"This atmosphere is 'igh,"

Says I.

Twelve in a carriage is pretty thick,

When 'ite of the twelve is a sittin', smokin';
Nancy started 'er lawkin, and jokin',

Syin' she 'oped as we shouldn't be sick;
"Don't go on, or you'll mike me die!"

Says I.

"Three styeshuns we've porst by,"

Says I.

"So hout we get at the next, my gel."

When we got hout, she wer pale and saint-like,

White in the gills, and sorter faint-like,

An' said my cigaw 'ad a powerful smell,

"Well, it's the sime as I always buy,"

Says I.

"Ites them clouds in the sky,"

Says I.

"Don't like 'em at all," I says, "that's flat-
Black as your boots and sorter thick'nin'."
"If it's wet," says she, "it will be sick'nin'.

I wish as I'd brought my other 'at.”

"You thinks too much of your finery,"

Says I.

"Keep them sanwidjus dry,"

Says I,

When the rine came down in a reggiler sheet.

But what can yo do with one umbrella,

And a damp gel strung on the arm of a fella? "Well, rined-on 'am ain't pleasant to eat,

If yer don't believe it, just go an try."

Says I.

335

"There is some gels whort cry,"

Says I.

"And there is some don't shed a tear,

But just get tempers, and when they has'em
Reaches a pint in their sarcasem,

As on'y a dorg could bear to 'ear."

This unto Nancy by-and-by,

Says I.

All's hover now. And why,

Says I.

But why did I wear them boots, that vest?

The bloom is off 'em; they're sad to see;

And hev'rythin's off twixt Nancy and me;
And my trousers is off and gone to be pressed-
And ain't this a blimed bangkolidye?

Says I.

Barry Pain

PENSÉES DE NOËL

WHEN the landlord wants the rent

Of your humble tenement;

When the Christmas bills begin
Daily, hourly pouring in;

When you pay your gas and poor rate,
Tip the rector, fee the curate,
Let this thought your spirit cheer-
Christmas comes but once a year.

When the man who brings the coal
Claims his customary dole:
When the postman rings and knocks
For his usual Christmas-box:
When you're dunned by half the town
With demands for half-a-crown,—
Think, although they cost you dear,
Christmas comes but once a year.

A Ballade of an Anti-Puritan

When you roam from shop to shop,
Seeking, till you nearly drop,
Christmas cards and small donations
For the maw of your relations,
Questing vainly 'mid the heap
For a thing that's nice, and cheap:
Think, and check the rising tear,
Christmas comes but once a year.

Though for three successive days
Business quits her usual ways;
Though the milkman's voice be dumb;
Though the paper doesn't come;
Though you want tobacco, but
Find that all the shops are shut:
Bravely still your sorrows bear—
Christmas comes but once a year.

When mince-pies you can't digest
Join with waits to break your rest:
When, oh when, to crown your woe,
Persons who might better know
Think it needful that you should
Don a gay convivial mood:-

Bear with fortitude and patience
These afflicting dispensations:
Man was born to suffer here:
Christmas comes but once a year.

337

A. D. Godley.

A BALLADE OF AN ANTI-PURITAN

THEY spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of Light and Mrs. Humphry Ward-
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored-
I rose politely in the club

And said, "I feel a little bored;

Will someone take me to a pub?"

The new world's wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record

I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can't afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub——

I want a mash and sausage, “scored "-
Will someone take me to a pub?

I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,

And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord,

And hope, that is a hardy shrub,

And goodness, that is God's last word

Will someone take me to a pub?

ENVOI

Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword

To see the sort of knights you dub

Is that the last of them-O Lord!

Will someone take me to a pub?

G. K. Chesterton.

PESSIMISM

IN the age that was golden, the halcyon time,
All the billows were balmy and breezes were bland.
Then the poet was never hard up for a rhyme,

Then the milk and the honey flew free and were prime,
And the voice of the turtle was heard in the land.

In the times that are guilty the winds are perverse,
Blowing fair for the sharper and foul for the dupe.
Now the poet's condition could scarcely be worse,
Now the milk and the honey are strained through the purse,
And the voice of the turtle is dead in the soup.

Newton Mackintosh.