The spirits of unrest are wholly
Out of their element at Sloley;
But even the weariest straphanger
Regains his courage at Shelfanger.
No taint of Bolshevistic snarling
Poisons the atmosphere of Larling,
And infants in the throes of teething
Become seraphical at Seething.
Nor must my homely Muse be mute on
The charms of Guist and Sall and Booton,