If the Working-man
Will work on the plan
That Delves set forth at Norwich;
Check betting and drouth,
Need he burn his mouth
With the Socialist's hot porridge?
LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES.
Constantinople at Olympia.
To the confines of Asia 'tis easy to roam—
Here's a bus, going west, which invites
You (absurdly enough) to go east to the home
Of all manner of Turkish delights.
On arriving, at once you embark in a boat
Of a name unpronounceable quite,
And through vistas of columns are wafted afloat
In unspeakable-Turkish delight.
The vocab. in the programme is really A1,
You can pick up the language at sight,
And converse with your Turk in his own native tongue
To his infinite (Turkish) delight.
Then the making of carpets and Galata tower
Are both of them well worth a sight;
And the houris you'll view in their shop-window bower.
With mild, semi-Turkish delight.
'Twill be long ere the show on the stage you forget,
For the ballets are wonderfully bright,
There's an interval too, for a "naice segarette"—
A Britannico-Turkish delight.
When at last to an end the great spectacle comes,
You bid Constantinople good night;
And you go home enchanted, with several drums
Of the genuine "Turkish delight."