RHYMES OF THE UNDERGROUND.
The story has been told to you
Of good Adolphus Minns of Kew,
Whose virtuous ways have won renown
From Barking Creek to Acton Town.
Now with that hero's blameless life
Contrast the conduct of his wife:
Avoidance of egregious sins
Is not the way of Mrs. Minns.
That lady, I regret to say,
While bent on shopping every day,
Makes no attempt to get it o'er
Between the hours of ten and four.
To harassed booking-office clerks
She makes irrelevant remarks,
And tenders, to the crowd's despair,
A pound-note for a penny fare,
Or, what perhaps is even worse,
Starts fumbling in a baggy purse.
She'll step aboard a Highgate train,
Then check and double back again,
And ask a dislocated queue
If she is right for Waterloo.
The liftmen, who, you recollect,
Spoke of Adolphus with respect,
Are pessimistic, even for them,
About the fate of Mrs. M.
Where Gertrude Minns will go when she
Departs this life is not for me,
Or you, or liftmen, to decree.
And, any way, we needn't fret;
She shows no sign of dying yet.
