(_BY A RE-ELECTED M.P._)
Yes, there I stood beside my wife,
And called it--whilst the mob cheered wildly--
"The proudest moment of my life,"
Which it was _not_, to put it mildly.
Heavens, how they cheered! Up went their caps,
To see their Member safely seated;
Who in his inmost soul, perhaps,
Had almost wished himself defeated.
The girls are pleased. And Mrs. T.,
Has fairy visions of a handle
To grace the name she shares with me;
But is the game quite worth the candle?
Six years of unremitting work,
Of flower-shows, bazaars, and speeches,
Of sturdy mendicants who lurk
In wait to act as sturdy leeches.
The faddists--Anti-This-and-That--
Blue-spectacled "One Vote, One Person"--
Extract a promise, prompt and pat,
The while their heads you hurl a curse on.
And in return? The dull debate,
The dreary unimportant question,
The pressure of affairs of State,
A muddled brain, a lost digestion.
Six years of it. I _cannot_ stand
At any cost another bout of it;
But, given away on every hand,
I don't quite see how to get out of it.
Ah, happy thought! My seat is safe,
And so 'mid general adulation,
I'll rescue some poor party waif
By Chiltern Hundreds resignation.
The world will quickly roar applause,
Of martyrs I shall be the latest;
But I'm the party and the cause
To whom the service will be greatest!
* * * * *
SONG OF GRATITUDE (_by a Nervous Equestrian on the exceptional absence
of 'Arry-cyclists or "Wheelmen" from the road to Wimbledon_).--
"Oh, Wheelie, have we missed you?
Oh no, no, No!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MATTER OF "COURSE."
_Eminent German Specialist_. "VAT VATERS 'AVE YOU BEEN IN ZE 'ABIT OF
TAKING?"
_English Gouty Patient_. "WATER! HAVEN'T TOUCHED A DROP, EXCEPT WITH
MY TEA, FOR THE LAST THIRTY YEARS!"
[_Upon which a mild course of Homburg, Kissengen, Marienbad, and
Karlsbad is at once prescribed._]
* * * * *