A poet (not a puny 'un)
Who raves about the Union,
And hymns the States Communion,
Takes none the less his meal.
In the City. Thursday Last.
First Member of Stock Exchange (Unionist). I say, Jones, you weren't in it! Why didn't you join us marching in procession, with Clarke carrying the Union Jack, eh?
Second Member of the House. Why didn't I join you? Because I didn't want to make a Union-Jack-ass of myself!
[Exit, before the retort is possible.
A Pair of Spectacles.
(After hearing a much interrupted Speech in the Commons.)