Than our era of blobbers and boasters.
With chalks, and my thumb, and a bit of old rag,
I can do better work on a rough slab of flag
Than they do on smooth hot-pressed paper.
But oh! what a bother to squat and to smear
All sorts of strange subjects, quaint, squiffy and queer,
To please every lounger and gaper.
There once was a time when the old repertore
The public would fetch. Now they want a lot more,
And always a somethink that's novel,