A CURE FOR CURIOSITY.
(An Idealistic Fable.)
Alfonso Ebenezer Scutt
Could never keep his mouth close shut;
And when I mention that his tongue
Was flexible and loosely hung,
You will begin to understand
Why he was honoured in our land.
A lucky coup in mining shares
Released him from financial cares,
And though his wife was strangely plain—
A lady of Peruvian strain—
She had a handsome revenue
Derived from manganese and glue.
Thus fortified, in Nineteen-Six
Alfonso entered politics,
Ousting from Sludgeport-on-the-Ouse
A Tory of old-fashioned views.
Alfonso Scutt, though wont to preach
In chapels, rarely made a speech,
But managed very soon to climb
To eminence at Question Time.
Fired by insatiable thirst
For knowledge, from the very first
He launched upon an endless series
Of quite unnecessary queries,
Till overworked officials came
To loathe the mention of his name.
At last their anguish grew so keen
The Premier had to intervene,
And by a tactful master-stroke
Relieved them from Alfonso's yoke.
By way of liberal reward
He made the childless Scutt a lord,
And then despatched him on a Mission
In honorific recognition
Of presents sent for our relief
By a renowned New Guinea Chief.
The natives of those distant parts
Are noted for their generous hearts,
But, spite of protests raised by us,
Continue anthropophagous.
And this, I have no doubt, was why,
When Members wished Lord Scutt good-bye,
You could not see one humid eye.
The moral of this simple strain
I trust is adequately plain.
When people crave for information
Unfit, in war, for publication,
They take a line, from vice or levity,
That's not conducive to longevity.