THE COMMONS.
As the "brave" re-seeks his wigwam,
Left deserted in the autumn,
When the early spring-tide tempts him
To return and hunt the bison—
To return and trap the beaver—
To return and scalp the "pale-face"—
To return, in short, and do for
Many beasts and birds and fishes;
So unto their long-left places,
To their worn and padded places,
Where they sought for reputation—
Where they strove for loaves and fishes—
Where they hounded down the helpless—
Where they vexèd those in office—
Where they howled and snored and hooted—
Where they quite wore out the Speaker,
Harried Adderley and Holker,
Tried in vain to draw Ben Dizzy,
And gave forth such endless rubbish—
Came the M.P.'s for the Session.
Came in state, too, Mr. Speaker
With the mace and with his chaplain;—
Gold the mace, and Byng his chaplain;
Whereupon did Captain Gossett,
In his normal tights and ruffles,
"Tile" the door till prayers were over.
Thus all present fell to praying,
Let us hope they prayed in earnest,
For delivery from envy,
Spite and malice and Kenealy.
Prayed for sense (God knows most want it),
Prayed for very frequent count-outs,
And for early dissolution.
[Left Praying.
Now the mace is on the table
From his oaken throne the Speaker,
In his hand the Queen's speech holding,
Tries to read it, but half through it,
Something ails him, and he falters.
May we not trace his emotion
To the thought of what's before him?
How can he fail to remember
That the bores have re-assembled.
Stronger both in lung and purpose,
That when they left town last August.
And he knows he can't escape them,
That his eye perforce will caught be
By the Lewises and Lawsons,
By the Biggars and the Whalleys,
By the Newdegates and Parnells,
This is why his voice completely
Fails him and prevents his reading,
This is why his accents die out,
Like the last song of Pu-kee-wis,
Of the dying swan, Pu-kee-wis;
This is why they have to bring him
Of the water from his cistern
(Let us hope it first was filtered),
Which he drinks, and so recovers;
Drinks, and so concludes his reading.
Then, since there is no amendment,
One would think that when the mover
And the seconder had spoken
That the House would straightway scatter;
Little do they know, who think so,
Of the ways of Mr. Gladstone!
Little do they understand him,
If they think he can keep silence
When the Eastern question's talked of!
Could they fancy Whalley speechless,
With the Jesuits on the tapis?
Could they picture Doctor "Dewdrops"
Dumb upon the Magna Charta?
Or the Common Serjeant henceforth
Dropping his deceased wife's sister?
Could they e'en think Holker clever?
Couple modesty and Jenkins?
Take from Lewis his white waistcoats,
Or from Plimsoll his last hobby?
Could they do all this? it's doubtful,
Even then, if Mr. Gladstone
Could be really kept from speaking.
When the Eastern question's mentioned,
He is always running over
With a tide of verbal fulness;
At a moment's notice ready
To break through his lips or flow out
In a pamphlet from his study,
Just as when the cat, Me-aw-nee,
Sees a mouse she pounces on it;
As the buffalo, Shu-shu-kah,
At the sight of crimson's maddened;
As the sturgeon, Minhe-nah-ma,
Meets a mackerel, but to bolt it,
As the 'possum, Pau-ku-kee-wis,
When it finds a gum-tree, climbs it,
So does this M.P. for Greenwich
Seize upon the Eastern question,
Be it in, or out of, season,
Be it apropos or useless,
Be it positively dangerous
To allude to it in public;
So on Thursday seized he on it,
Even though he knew the time was
Not yet come to talk upon it,
Poured his stream of words upon it,
Swamped it with his fluent diction;
And when he had talked a column,
Was informed by Gathorne Hardy,
That the questions he'd propounded
Would be answered in the blue-books;
That the information asked for
Would be printed in the blue-books;
That, in short, his speech was useless—
Verba et præterea nihil.
Whereupon the Speaker vanished,
And the House broke up its sitting.
Truth, February 15, 1877.