THE MOAN OF THE TWO (EXCHEQUER) MISERS.

First Exchequer Miser. Oh dear me! I desired to shape a Democratic Budget!

But I fear 'twill be a fizzle, howsoe'er I fake and fudge it!

Second E. M. Don't talk like that, my H-rc-t, for such cynic slang is shocking!

But—the Revenue Returns, no doubt, our dearest hopes are mocking.

First E. M. Oh, I know you ape the casuist, and love the pleonastic,

But how tackle our taxation in a manner really drastic

With a Revenue declining! From the task my courage blenches,

But—what will be the consequence on those clamorous Rad Benches?

They want Free Breakfast Tables, and are hot on Members' Payment,

And if they cannot get 'em, will they curse and rend our raiment?

The Death Duties, too! The failure to touch them might be the death of us!

Second R. M. Yet we've been economical; it is the very breath of us.

First E. M. Humph! How about your Home-Rule Bill's Finance Proposals—drat'em!

Which e'en the Irish threaten to tear up—when they get at 'em!

Second E. M. The Rads, of course, will want to eat their cake and have it, also.

No, a Democratic Budget,—at least one the Rads would call so,—

I fear's not on the cards, H., but—humph! listen! (Whispers in his ear.)

For the rest of it

I'll trust your ingenuity, and—we must make the best of it! [Left working it out.