LIQUID AIR.
A learned Professor, the other day,
At the Royal Institution,
Explained, in a quite scientific way,
How, helped by a contribution
From the Goldsmiths' Company, he'd prepare
Some liquid oxygen—you're aware
This is what plain English folks call "air"
Unspoilt by smoky pollution.
No doubt he meant well, and the Goldsmiths too,
In their noble work together;
But was it the very best thing to do,
In that showery, soaking weather;
When drizzle, or downpour, of dogs and cats,
From the "liquid air" made us all drowned rats,
And ruined our clothes and our best top-hats,
And spoilt boots of the stoutest leather?
Professors and Companies, if you would
Invent some sort of appliance
To dry "liquid air," on which we could
Repose implicit reliance,
Arranged to diminish this H2O,
Which, as every schoolboy ought to know,
The Germans call wasser, the French call eau,
We should bless your chemical science.