"WhenAdamdelved andEvespan,"No one need ask which was the man.Bicycling, footballing, scarce human,All wonder now "Which is the woman?"But a new fear my bosom vexes;To-morrow there may benosexes!Unless, as end to all the pother,Each one in fact becomes the other.E'enthenperhaps they'll start amainA-trying to change back again!Womanwaswoman, manwasman,WhenAdamdelved andEvespan.Now he can't dig and she won't spin,Unless 'tis tales all slang and sin!
"WhenAdamdelved andEvespan,"No one need ask which was the man.Bicycling, footballing, scarce human,All wonder now "Which is the woman?"But a new fear my bosom vexes;To-morrow there may benosexes!Unless, as end to all the pother,Each one in fact becomes the other.E'enthenperhaps they'll start amainA-trying to change back again!Womanwaswoman, manwasman,WhenAdamdelved andEvespan.Now he can't dig and she won't spin,Unless 'tis tales all slang and sin!
"WhenAdamdelved andEvespan,"
No one need ask which was the man.
Bicycling, footballing, scarce human,
All wonder now "Which is the woman?"
But a new fear my bosom vexes;
To-morrow there may benosexes!
Unless, as end to all the pother,
Each one in fact becomes the other.
E'enthenperhaps they'll start amain
A-trying to change back again!
Womanwaswoman, manwasman,
WhenAdamdelved andEvespan.
Now he can't dig and she won't spin,
Unless 'tis tales all slang and sin!
DOMESTIC TROUBLES.DOMESTIC TROUBLES."What is it, Nurse?""If you please, Ma'am, the Childrenwillmake Slides on the Floor with Tapioca Pudding!"
"What is it, Nurse?"
"If you please, Ma'am, the Childrenwillmake Slides on the Floor with Tapioca Pudding!"
["The magnificent ostrich at the Zoological Gardens, presented by theQueen, has recently died from lung-disease."—Daily Paper.]
My eyes are wet with dewy tears,That will not cease to flow.LikeMary'slittle lamb, my griefSomehow is sure to goWherever I do. It all comesFrom something that I've read,The ostrich that I loved so wellFell ill, and now is dead."Magnificent" indeed, it was.I never ceased to takeA pride in its magnificenceFor its own special sake.But added unto this there wasAn extra joy. I meanThat loyalty asks ardour forA present from theQueen.Oh! ostrich. I have often thoughtYour smile childlike and bland,And speculated if it's trueThat right down in the sandYou reallydoconceal your head.But even though that's wrong,It seems without a lung for lifeYou could not live for long.My wife and I delight to hearOur wee girl's merry laugh,As she's astride the elephantOr feeding the giraffe.But ostrich—regal, lung-gone, dead!When we are at the Zoo,My wife's best hat will always serveTo turn my thoughts to you.
My eyes are wet with dewy tears,That will not cease to flow.LikeMary'slittle lamb, my griefSomehow is sure to goWherever I do. It all comesFrom something that I've read,The ostrich that I loved so wellFell ill, and now is dead.
My eyes are wet with dewy tears,
That will not cease to flow.
LikeMary'slittle lamb, my grief
Somehow is sure to go
Wherever I do. It all comes
From something that I've read,
The ostrich that I loved so well
Fell ill, and now is dead.
"Magnificent" indeed, it was.I never ceased to takeA pride in its magnificenceFor its own special sake.But added unto this there wasAn extra joy. I meanThat loyalty asks ardour forA present from theQueen.
"Magnificent" indeed, it was.
I never ceased to take
A pride in its magnificence
For its own special sake.
But added unto this there was
An extra joy. I mean
That loyalty asks ardour for
A present from theQueen.
Oh! ostrich. I have often thoughtYour smile childlike and bland,And speculated if it's trueThat right down in the sandYou reallydoconceal your head.But even though that's wrong,It seems without a lung for lifeYou could not live for long.
Oh! ostrich. I have often thought
Your smile childlike and bland,
And speculated if it's true
That right down in the sand
You reallydoconceal your head.
But even though that's wrong,
It seems without a lung for life
You could not live for long.
My wife and I delight to hearOur wee girl's merry laugh,As she's astride the elephantOr feeding the giraffe.But ostrich—regal, lung-gone, dead!When we are at the Zoo,My wife's best hat will always serveTo turn my thoughts to you.
My wife and I delight to hear
Our wee girl's merry laugh,
As she's astride the elephant
Or feeding the giraffe.
But ostrich—regal, lung-gone, dead!
When we are at the Zoo,
My wife's best hat will always serve
To turn my thoughts to you.
(An Impression.)
Carmencita
"O east is east, and west is westAnd never the twain shall meet."And the dance of Spain is one of the twainTo the English Man in the Street.We love the trick of the lofty kickAnd the muscular displayOf the nymph who has leapt at a muslin hoopAnd stopp'd in her flight half-way.A plain, blunt girl in the stormy swirlOf accordion pleats and laces,Tho' she cannot dance, if she spin and prance,Is numbered among the Graces.For heel and toe our hearts can glowAnd the feats of the rhythmic clog,And a poem of motion wells forth in the notionOf a Serpentine Dancing Dog.But the dancer's art, of her life a part,A song of the wordless soulWith a tale to tell, like the music's swell,Too large for the word's control,Thatgoes not down in London townWhere dogg'd conventions stick,And dancers still must charm with frill,Or "make shymnastic drick."As the jungle king with his wrathful spring,To the lamb that aptly bleats,As the trumpet's blare to the palsied airOf that which plays in pleats,So is east to west, with its sun-born zest,With fire at the quick heart's core,And passions bold as the ardent goldOf the sun on a southern shore.
"O east is east, and west is westAnd never the twain shall meet."And the dance of Spain is one of the twainTo the English Man in the Street.
"O east is east, and west is west
And never the twain shall meet."
And the dance of Spain is one of the twain
To the English Man in the Street.
We love the trick of the lofty kickAnd the muscular displayOf the nymph who has leapt at a muslin hoopAnd stopp'd in her flight half-way.
We love the trick of the lofty kick
And the muscular display
Of the nymph who has leapt at a muslin hoop
And stopp'd in her flight half-way.
A plain, blunt girl in the stormy swirlOf accordion pleats and laces,Tho' she cannot dance, if she spin and prance,Is numbered among the Graces.
A plain, blunt girl in the stormy swirl
Of accordion pleats and laces,
Tho' she cannot dance, if she spin and prance,
Is numbered among the Graces.
For heel and toe our hearts can glowAnd the feats of the rhythmic clog,And a poem of motion wells forth in the notionOf a Serpentine Dancing Dog.
For heel and toe our hearts can glow
And the feats of the rhythmic clog,
And a poem of motion wells forth in the notion
Of a Serpentine Dancing Dog.
But the dancer's art, of her life a part,A song of the wordless soulWith a tale to tell, like the music's swell,Too large for the word's control,
But the dancer's art, of her life a part,
A song of the wordless soul
With a tale to tell, like the music's swell,
Too large for the word's control,
Thatgoes not down in London townWhere dogg'd conventions stick,And dancers still must charm with frill,Or "make shymnastic drick."
Thatgoes not down in London town
Where dogg'd conventions stick,
And dancers still must charm with frill,
Or "make shymnastic drick."
As the jungle king with his wrathful spring,To the lamb that aptly bleats,As the trumpet's blare to the palsied airOf that which plays in pleats,
As the jungle king with his wrathful spring,
To the lamb that aptly bleats,
As the trumpet's blare to the palsied air
Of that which plays in pleats,
So is east to west, with its sun-born zest,With fire at the quick heart's core,And passions bold as the ardent goldOf the sun on a southern shore.
So is east to west, with its sun-born zest,
With fire at the quick heart's core,
And passions bold as the ardent gold
Of the sun on a southern shore.
(In brief.)
"The sovereign'st thing on earthWas parmaceti, for an inward bruise."Henry the Fourth, Part I., Act i., Sc. 3.
"The sovereign'st thing on earthWas parmaceti, for an inward bruise."
"The sovereign'st thing on earth
Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise."
Henry the Fourth, Part I., Act i., Sc. 3.
Henry the Fourth, Part I., Act i., Sc. 3.
A quarrel, anything but pretty,Cannot be healed by parmaceti.But honour, bruisèd in the leg,Finds sovereign solace in an egg.
A quarrel, anything but pretty,Cannot be healed by parmaceti.But honour, bruisèd in the leg,Finds sovereign solace in an egg.
A quarrel, anything but pretty,
Cannot be healed by parmaceti.
But honour, bruisèd in the leg,
Finds sovereign solace in an egg.
Saturday.—Things looking queer. Leamington in a ferment, Tories denouncingme. Like their impudence. Must orderArthur Balfourto stop this nonsense, and bring rebels to reason. I shall want Hythe thrown into the bargain.Balfourmust write more letters. If our little lot are to get nothing out of all this, what's the use of having sacrificed principles andCourtney? Obviously none.Jesse Collingsquite agrees. Says the Tories will repent, when it is too late, of having refused to submit to the greatest, wisest, most generous and noblest statesman of this or any other age, past or future. Wonderful amount of sense inJesse. Shall make him Governor-General of India, or First Lord of Admiralty.
Monday.—Have seenBalfour. Says he can do nothing at Leamington. Wanted me to withdraw Liberal Unionist candidate.Me!The mere notion ridiculous. Told him so. Also asked him how about Compact. He said "Compact be ——". At this momentGoschencame in, and interrupted.Balfoursaid missing word was "observed."Goschenfull of sympathy, but said he could do nothing. Shall not allow him to be Chancellor of Exchequer again. Shall be Chancellor of Exchequer myself. Letter inTimesfromGeoffrey Drage, saying kind things about me. Rather patronising, but well meant. Shall makeDrageHome Secretary.
Tuesday.—Letter inTimesfrom LordTeynhamattacking me on account of vote on Welsh Disestablishment. Even a fool of a lord might know a man can't wriggle out of everything, and can't please everybody. Have written toSalisburyordering him to throwTeynhaminto the Tower as soon as Unionist Government in power. If he refuses, shall accept Premiership myself and executeTeynhamon Tower Hill. Leamington still raging. If this goes on shall march at head of Birmingham Fencibles and rase Leamington to the ground—all except three houses said to belong to Liberal Unionists. That'll teach them to opposeme.
Wednesday.—Letter inTimesfromByron Reed. Says I'm not so bad as they want to make me out. Nice sensible fellowByron. Shall make him Minister of Agriculture. Have sent ultimatums toSalisbury,Balfour,Akers-Douglas,Michael Hicks-Beach, andChaplin, ordering them to retire from public life. Shall run the show on entirely different lines withAustenandJesseto help me. Have heard from editor ofNew Review, who refuses to disclose name of author, of an attack on me. Have sentHenry Jamesto editor with new patent rack and thumbscrews. But there, my name's easy. Never could bear malice. Always forgive everybody.... Notes fromSalisbury, Balfour & Co.They refuse to retire.Henry Jamesreturns. Editor broke rack and threw thumbscrews out of window. A very rude man,Henry Jamessays.Gullyelected Speaker. I'm off to Birmingham.
* * * * * *
Later.—Letter fromHart Dykein theTimes. A good fellow,Hart Dyke. But why, in the name of screw-nails, should they all presume to patroniseme?
* * * * * *
Letter inStandardfromStanley Boulter. Must stop that kind of nonsense. Leading article inStandard. Usual futilities: "We fully recognise loyal services, but on the present occasion," &c. Shall refuse peerage and retire to Central Australia withJesseto found a Me-colony. Sick of the whole show.
QUEER QUERY.—Any Advance?—I see that at the Shop Assistants' Conference at Cardiff it was said that what shop-workers ought to go in for was a "Forward Policy." Surely this must be a mistake? If there is one thing that everybody objects to, it is forward young men and women behind the counter. One often hears the shop-walker say, "Will you come forward, MissJones, and serve this lady!" And perhapsthatwas what the Cardiff people were thinking of. Can this be the true explanation? I sincerely hope so; I don't want a "forward" young person, a sort of "independent labour party," slamming down goods formeto inspect!—Alarmed.