THE BILLS

IHEAR the postman with the bills—Little bills!What a secret misery the sight of them instils!How they flutter, flutter, flutterIn their envelopes of blue,While you open them and mutter,In a whisper or a stutter,“What the deuce am I to do?”Thinking where, where, whereIs the money that shall squareEvery paltry, petty item, that monotonously fillsLittle bills, bills, bills, bills,Bills, bills, bills?Ah! those saddening little, maddening little bills!IIRead the lengthy household bills—Awful bills!Glancing at their totals grim, the brain with horror thrills.From the East and from the WestHow they echo one request:“A remittance must be sentWithout delay.”Food and coals and clothes and rent—It is hideous to reflect on what is meantBy Quarter Day.And, enthroned amidst your cares,Impecuniosity impertinently stares.How it chills!How it killsAll the future, how it fillsWith the haunting fear of ills,Does that pressing and distressingFile of bills, bills, bills—Those offensive, comprehensive household bills!IIIThere’s another sort of bills—Brazen bills!Each its diabolic task effectively fulfils,How all hunger to be paidIn that paper cannonade!Will the trouble never end?Still they send and send and send,Day and night,In a clamorous appealing to the debtor’s scanty purse,In a wild and greedy grabbing for the starved and shrunken purse;And you curse, curse, curse,Sinking sure from bad to worse,Till a resolute endeavourCries, “Now—now flit, or never,And renounce the unequal fight!”Oh, the bills, bills, bills—They are bitter, bitter pillsTo digest.Smiling ghosts of pleasures flown,Lo! we greet ye with a groan;Ye will never more return, sweet hours of rest.We shall have no more reposeFrom the stunningAnd the dunning;For the monster grows and grows,Till it shatters iron wills,Under crushingAnd unblushingImportunity. It fillsWith a frantic, maniac anger in the clutches of the bills,Of the bills,Of the bills, bills, bills,Of the screeching and beseeching cloud of bills.IVComes the threatening of bills!Cruel bills!Pictures of a ruined home inspire the writers’ quills.’Tis the last, the sorest strait,And we shrink before the fateThat is bellowed in the menace of their tone.Cringing now amongst our friends,See, the humble prayer ascendsFor a loan!And relations—rich relations—Will they heed our supplications?They are stone.They’ve no carking, biting, wearing,Tearing trouble of their own;No great horror of despairingPoverty they’ve ever known.Are they fathers? Are they mothers?Have they children, sisters, brothers?—Have they hearts?Back the message comes from each.God! They preach, preach, preach,PreachA sermon on our bills,Purse-proud opulency thrillsWith a shudder at the bills,At the bills,Saying, “Go, go, go,Pay the money that you owe.You are blotted from our wills,From our wills, wills, wills.We shall never meet your bills—Oh dear no, no, no.Ask the hills, hills, hillsIf they’ll help you in your woe—Beg the sea to pay your bills,Pay your bills, bills, bills.”Now the heart-beat slows and stills,Lost in wilderness of ills;Drowned in bills, bills, bills.Oh! the railing of the bills,Of the bills, bills, bills;Oh! the wailing of the bills,Of the bills, bills, bills;See them patter on his coffin,As they fill a wretch’s graveFull of bills, bills, bills—Cursèd bills!

HEAR the postman with the bills—Little bills!What a secret misery the sight of them instils!How they flutter, flutter, flutterIn their envelopes of blue,While you open them and mutter,In a whisper or a stutter,“What the deuce am I to do?”Thinking where, where, whereIs the money that shall squareEvery paltry, petty item, that monotonously fillsLittle bills, bills, bills, bills,Bills, bills, bills?Ah! those saddening little, maddening little bills!

HEAR the postman with the bills—

Little bills!

What a secret misery the sight of them instils!

How they flutter, flutter, flutter

In their envelopes of blue,

While you open them and mutter,

In a whisper or a stutter,

“What the deuce am I to do?”

Thinking where, where, where

Is the money that shall square

Every paltry, petty item, that monotonously fills

Little bills, bills, bills, bills,

Bills, bills, bills?

Ah! those saddening little, maddening little bills!

Read the lengthy household bills—Awful bills!Glancing at their totals grim, the brain with horror thrills.From the East and from the WestHow they echo one request:“A remittance must be sentWithout delay.”Food and coals and clothes and rent—It is hideous to reflect on what is meantBy Quarter Day.And, enthroned amidst your cares,Impecuniosity impertinently stares.How it chills!How it killsAll the future, how it fillsWith the haunting fear of ills,Does that pressing and distressingFile of bills, bills, bills—Those offensive, comprehensive household bills!

Read the lengthy household bills—

Awful bills!

Glancing at their totals grim, the brain with horror thrills.

From the East and from the West

How they echo one request:

“A remittance must be sent

Without delay.”

Food and coals and clothes and rent—

It is hideous to reflect on what is meant

By Quarter Day.

And, enthroned amidst your cares,

Impecuniosity impertinently stares.

How it chills!

How it kills

All the future, how it fills

With the haunting fear of ills,

Does that pressing and distressing

File of bills, bills, bills—

Those offensive, comprehensive household bills!

III

There’s another sort of bills—Brazen bills!Each its diabolic task effectively fulfils,How all hunger to be paidIn that paper cannonade!Will the trouble never end?Still they send and send and send,Day and night,In a clamorous appealing to the debtor’s scanty purse,In a wild and greedy grabbing for the starved and shrunken purse;And you curse, curse, curse,Sinking sure from bad to worse,Till a resolute endeavourCries, “Now—now flit, or never,And renounce the unequal fight!”Oh, the bills, bills, bills—They are bitter, bitter pillsTo digest.Smiling ghosts of pleasures flown,Lo! we greet ye with a groan;Ye will never more return, sweet hours of rest.We shall have no more reposeFrom the stunningAnd the dunning;For the monster grows and grows,Till it shatters iron wills,Under crushingAnd unblushingImportunity. It fillsWith a frantic, maniac anger in the clutches of the bills,Of the bills,Of the bills, bills, bills,Of the screeching and beseeching cloud of bills.

There’s another sort of bills—

Brazen bills!

Each its diabolic task effectively fulfils,

How all hunger to be paid

In that paper cannonade!

Will the trouble never end?

Still they send and send and send,

Day and night,

In a clamorous appealing to the debtor’s scanty purse,

In a wild and greedy grabbing for the starved and shrunken purse;

And you curse, curse, curse,

Sinking sure from bad to worse,

Till a resolute endeavour

Cries, “Now—now flit, or never,

And renounce the unequal fight!”

Oh, the bills, bills, bills—

They are bitter, bitter pills

To digest.

Smiling ghosts of pleasures flown,

Lo! we greet ye with a groan;

Ye will never more return, sweet hours of rest.

We shall have no more repose

From the stunning

And the dunning;

For the monster grows and grows,

Till it shatters iron wills,

Under crushing

And unblushing

Importunity. It fills

With a frantic, maniac anger in the clutches of the bills,

Of the bills,

Of the bills, bills, bills,

Of the screeching and beseeching cloud of bills.

Comes the threatening of bills!Cruel bills!Pictures of a ruined home inspire the writers’ quills.’Tis the last, the sorest strait,And we shrink before the fateThat is bellowed in the menace of their tone.Cringing now amongst our friends,See, the humble prayer ascendsFor a loan!And relations—rich relations—Will they heed our supplications?They are stone.They’ve no carking, biting, wearing,Tearing trouble of their own;No great horror of despairingPoverty they’ve ever known.Are they fathers? Are they mothers?Have they children, sisters, brothers?—Have they hearts?Back the message comes from each.God! They preach, preach, preach,PreachA sermon on our bills,Purse-proud opulency thrillsWith a shudder at the bills,At the bills,Saying, “Go, go, go,Pay the money that you owe.You are blotted from our wills,From our wills, wills, wills.We shall never meet your bills—Oh dear no, no, no.Ask the hills, hills, hillsIf they’ll help you in your woe—Beg the sea to pay your bills,Pay your bills, bills, bills.”

Comes the threatening of bills!

Cruel bills!

Pictures of a ruined home inspire the writers’ quills.

’Tis the last, the sorest strait,

And we shrink before the fate

That is bellowed in the menace of their tone.

Cringing now amongst our friends,

See, the humble prayer ascends

For a loan!

And relations—rich relations—

Will they heed our supplications?

They are stone.

They’ve no carking, biting, wearing,

Tearing trouble of their own;

No great horror of despairing

Poverty they’ve ever known.

Are they fathers? Are they mothers?

Have they children, sisters, brothers?—

Have they hearts?

Back the message comes from each.

God! They preach, preach, preach,

Preach

A sermon on our bills,

Purse-proud opulency thrills

With a shudder at the bills,

At the bills,

Saying, “Go, go, go,

Pay the money that you owe.

You are blotted from our wills,

From our wills, wills, wills.

We shall never meet your bills—

Oh dear no, no, no.

Ask the hills, hills, hills

If they’ll help you in your woe—

Beg the sea to pay your bills,

Pay your bills, bills, bills.”

Now the heart-beat slows and stills,Lost in wilderness of ills;Drowned in bills, bills, bills.Oh! the railing of the bills,Of the bills, bills, bills;Oh! the wailing of the bills,Of the bills, bills, bills;See them patter on his coffin,As they fill a wretch’s graveFull of bills, bills, bills—Cursèd bills!

Now the heart-beat slows and stills,

Lost in wilderness of ills;

Drowned in bills, bills, bills.

Oh! the railing of the bills,

Of the bills, bills, bills;

Oh! the wailing of the bills,

Of the bills, bills, bills;

See them patter on his coffin,

As they fill a wretch’s grave

Full of bills, bills, bills—

Cursèd bills!

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