NEW YEAR NOTIONS.
(By an Old Buffer.)
"There is nothing new under the sun," someone says;
I wish that there wasn't, by Jingo!
It seems to me everything's New in these days,
And nothing is genuine old stingo.
A New Poet turns up about once a week
(According to log-rolling rumour);
And there's the New Politics, all grab and sneak;
And something dull dubbed the New Humour!
The New Art; I'm certain it comes from Old Nick,
It's so diabolic and dirty.
Faith! some of their Novelties make me feel sick,
And most of them make me feel "shirty."
The New Year!—well, that is as old as the hills.
The New Leaf—we annually turn it.
Ah! if the New Newness would banish Old Ills.
Not e'en an Old Fogey would spurn it.
New Year, give us books that are healthy and gay,
And Art that's not impish or queer, Sir!
And if you'll but cart the New Woman away,
You will be a Happy New Year, Sir!