Under the Old Umbrella,
Beneath the leaking gamp,
Wrapped up in woolly phrases
We battle with the damp.
Come, gather round the gamp!
Observe, it is pre-war;
And beneath the old Black Brolly
There’s room for several more.
Shameless calumniators
Calumniate like mad;
Detractors keep detracting;
It really is too bad;
It really is too bad.
To show we’re not quite dead,
We wave the old Black Brolly
And hit them on the head.
Then we have the Nationalist Party. I am rather vague about the
National Party, but I know they are frightfully military, and they keep
on having Mass Rallies in Kensington--complete with drums, I expect.
Where all the masses come from I don’t quite know, as a prolonged
search has failed to reveal anyone who knows anyone who is actually
a member of the party. Everybody tells me, though, that there is at
least one Brigadier-General (Tempy.) mixed up with it, if not two, and
at least one Lord, though possibly one of the Brigadiers is the same
as the Lord; but after all they represent the Nation, so they ought to
have a song. They have nothing but “Rule Britannia” now, I suppose.
Their song goes to the tune of “The British Grenadiers.” I have written
it as a duet, but no doubt other parts could be added if the occasion
should ever arise.[2]
[2] I understand that it has not arisen. On the contrary....