He finds abundant causes for misgiving and dismay.
Our optimistic journals his exasperation fire,
And the idlers and the loafers stimulate his righteous ire;
But it is the flapper chiefly that in his gizzard sticks,
And he’s down upon her failings like a waggon-load of bricks.
She’s ubiquitous in theatres, in rail and ’bus and tram,
She wears her “blouses open down to the diaphragm,”
And, instead of realizing what our men are fighting for,
She’s an orgiastic nuisance who in fact enjoys the War.
It’s a strenuous indictment of our petticoated youth