A Philistine to an Æsthete.
(By an Oxford Under grad who “makes hay” in
an Æsthete’s room “while the sun shines.”)
If I were big Nat Langham,
And you the Suffolk Pet,
I’d strike out from the shoulder,
Between your eyes, you’ll bet,
And give you such a drubbing,
As you would not forget;
If I were big Nat Langham,
And you the Suffolk Pet.