TO MR. BERNARD JAW.
Illustrious Jester, who in happier days
Amused us with your Prefaces and Plays,
Acquiring a precarious renown
By turning laws and morals upside down,
Sticking perpetual pins in Mrs. Grundy,
Railing at marriage or the British Sunday,
And lavishing your acid ridicule
On the foundations of imperial rule;—
'Twas well enough in normal times to sit
And watch the workings of your wayward wit,
But in these bitter days of storm and stress,
When souls are shown in all their nakedness,
Your devastating egotism stands out
Denuded of the last remaining clout.
You own our cause is just, yet can't refrain
From libelling those who made its justice plain;
You chide the Prussian Junkers, yet proclaim
Our statesmen beat them at their own vile game.
Thus, bent on getting back at any cost
Into the limelight you have lately lost,
And, high above war's trumpets loudly blown
On land and sea, eager to sound your own,
We find you faithful to your ancient plan
Of disagreeing with the average man,
And all because you think yourself undone
Unless in a minority of one.
Vain to the core, thus in the nation's need
You carp and cavil while your brothers bleed,
And while on England vitriol you bestow
You offer balsam to her deadliest foe.
Extract from a commercial traveller's letter to his chief:—
"Dear Sir,—On Wednesday next I want you to allow me the day off. My wife having lost her mother is being buried on that date and I should like to attend the funeral."
Extract from a child's essay on Cromwell:—
"In his last years, Cromwell grew very much afraid of plots, and it is said that he even wore underclothes to protect himself."
We wonder if the Kaiser knows of this.
