PUTTING IT PLEASANTLY.
[Mr. Fowler announced the Government's willingness to appoint "a small Commission" to consider how the City could be amalgamated with the rest of London.]
"Dilly, Dilly, come and be killed!"
Cried good Mrs. Bond to the ducks, in the story.
Conceive with what rapture the victims were thrilled,
And then picture the joy of our Turtle friends, filled
With sweet premonitions of glory!
No little testudinate triflers are these,
Unmindful of doom unforbodingly playing.
The cook's charming manners are likely to please,
But the flash of that knife Snapping Turtles might freeze,
'Tis so strangely suggestive of—slaying.
The civic Brer Terrapin certainly seems
Extremely content with its time-honoured station.
Our "young men" may dream highly optimist dreams,
But Turtledom feareth what Turtledom deems
The perils of—Unification!
"No compulsion, of course, only, darlings, you must!"
That's their reading au fond of the C. C. Cook's attitude.
"'Amalgamate' Us? Doosed cool, most unjust!
Your offer inspires us with dismal distrust,
Your 'Commission' won't move us to gratitude.
"We love the traditions of Old London Town,
We Turtles. Pray leave us alone, and don't bother!
Amalgamate? Nay, on the notion we frown!
Like the lion and lamb we'll together lie down——
When the one is safe inside the other!"
Alack and alas! But the new Mrs. Bond
Means mischief, we fear, with her kind "Dilly, Dilly!"
And well may the Turtles droop fins and despond.
When the snug isolation of which they're so fond,
They must part with at last, willy-nilly!