THE TRUTH ABOUT THE COLD-TUBBER.
He had read of the frigid fanatics who tub
In a pool in the Park through the ice,
So he took a rough towel his body to scrub,
He sped to the Park,—quite avoiding the Pub,—
He stripped in a blizzard,
Which pierced to his gizzard.
And shrivelled his skin till he looked like a lizard,
Plunged, shuddered, shrank, stammered,
"How n-n-n-n-ice!"
But when through the laurels I happened to glance,
I found he was—doing the Serpentine Dance,
With a stiff frozen towel, ten paralysed toes,
And an unripe tomato in place of a nose!