And, when a house is split in twain,
Ruin occurs—ay! there's the rub
Alike for Labour and Beelzebub.
And anyhow I hope that, where
At red of dawn on Rigi's height
He jodels to the astonished air,
Lloyd George is bent on sitting tight;
Nor, as he did in Thomas' case,
Nurses a scheme for saving Smillie's face.
Why should his face be saved? indeed,