Sticking perpetual pins in Mrs. Grundy,
Railing at marriage or the British Sunday,
And lavishing your acid ridicule
On the foundations of imperial rule;—
'Twas well enough in normal times to sit
And watch the workings of your wayward wit,
But in these bitter days of storm and stress,
When souls are shown in all their nakedness,
Your devastating egotism stands out
Denuded of the last remaining clout.