"Let us be humorous, but never swankful—
Swank mars the finer fibres of the soul—
For what we have achieved devoutly thankful,
But disinclined our prowess to extol;
And, when our foemen bang the drum and bump it,
In silence be our disapproval shown;
'Tis nobler far to blow another's trumpet
Than to perform fantasias on your own."
I am, dear Mr. Punch,
Yours earnestly,