REDS AND DARK BLUES.
[Mr. R. H. Tawney and Mr. G. D. H. Cole, both Oxford Fellows, represent academic intellectualism in excelsis at the G.H.Q. of Labour.]
Only a simpleton or sawney
Falls short in reverence for Tawney;
Only the man without a soul
Disputes the kingliness of Cole.
Labour, no longer gross and brawny,
Finds its true hierophant in Tawney;
And, freed from all save Guild Control,
Attains its apogee in Cole.
Proud Prelates in their vestments lawny
Quail at the heresies of Tawney;
And prostrate Dukes in anguish roll,
Scared by the scrutiny of Cole.
The Nabob quits his brandy-pawnee
To listen to the lore of Tawney;
The plain beer-drinker bans the bowl,
Weaned by the witchery of Cole.
Students however slack or yawny
Grow tense beneath the spell of Tawney;
Footballers score goal after goal,
Trained in the principles of Cole.
The shrimp grows positively prawny
On list'ning to the voice of Tawney;
While upward shoots the blindest mole
Beneath the airy tread of Cole.
There's something thrilling—Colleen-Bawny—
About the articles of Tawney;
And no one can so grandly toll
The knell of Capital as Cole.
As Cornwall rallied to Trelawny
So Labour rallies to its Tawney;
And miners find a "better 'ole"
Provided by the creed of Cole.
"Our evening congregations have more than doubled in two months. Sans Deo!" Parish Magazine.
We don't wonder that two foreign languages were required to veil this shocking observation.
From a feuilleton ("dramatic, kinema and all other rights secured"):—
"So he just shook hands all round, and took off his coat, and lit a cigar, and laughed when Betty Cardon pointed out that he had put the wrong end of it in his mouth."—Daily Paper.
This incident should "film" well.