THE IMPERIAL SOCIALIST.

Will you walk into my Congress? says the Emperor unto Labour;

Tis the nicest little Congress; I'm inviting many a neighbour.

The way into my Congress by this Rescript I prepare,

And we shall have some curious things to show you—when you're there.

Then won't you, won't you, little International Working-Man?

We've already done a little to improve poor Labour's lot,

Shorten its hours, insure its life, and help to fill its pot.

But the poorer and the weaker yet fall short of the reality

Of "conformity to the principles of Chris-ti-an morality."

Then won't you, &c.

'Tis one of the State's duties, friends, to regulate the time,

The duration and the nature of your work,—a task sublime;

And you'll find we'll do it better, if you only won't resist,

Than that most obnoxious personage, the shouting Socialist.

Then won't you, &c.

I'm an Emperor by profession, but I have my little plan

For improving the position of the German Working-man.

But the International Question stands a little in the way,

So I've asked the Nations to convene—I only hope they may.

Then won't you, &c.

And when they get together they will do—well, we shall see;

But the Socialists shan't have all their own way with Industry.

I recognise the justice of the Workmen's aspirations,

And upon their wants and wishes I would start "negotiations."

Then won't you, &c.

Oh, I know my plan will bring up all the fogies in full blast,

And Coercion and Protection I see looking on aghast.

But I'm game to turn deaf ear to them, if you will only list,

To that latest, strangest birth of time, the Imperial Socialist!

Then won't you, &c.