Dry land I prefer in my inmost soul,

And his tub-like Fram will pitch and roll,

But she's bound at least for a glacial region!

Or stay, to be sure! here's Professor D——r

To cold can consign us untold degrees minus

There's no need to visit the Northern Pole!

With this decuman "heat-wave" I grow delirious,

And babble a prayer to the Maid who sways

The Weather-department (on working-days)

Of the Daily Graphic—in crazy phrase—