[It has been observed that employees in the Tubes never catch
cold while at work, and doctors, questioned by an evening
paper, have said that "the Tube atmosphere should be quite
likely to cure a cold if breathed long enough--say for an hour
at a stretch."]
To-day, when I acquire a cold
(Rude Boreas having blustered),
I do not, as in times of old,
Immerse my feet in mustard;
I put a penny in a slot
At some Tube railway station
And draw a ticket for a not
Far distant destination.
I shun the crowded lifts, although
They're right enough in their way,
And make my calm, unruffled, slow
Descension by the stairway;
'Tis there a man can be alone,
Immune from all intrusion;
I doubt if there was ever known
Its equal for seclusion.
Where no invading footsteps fall
I quaff the healthy vapours,
While glancing at my ease through all
The illustrated papers;
And since I've found the bottom stair
A place they don't upholster,
I always take when going there
A small pneumatic bolster.
Not till an hour or twain have gone,
Thus pleasantly expended,
Do I proceed to carry on,
And, when my journey's ended,
I find all dread bacilli slain--
No germ shows his (or her) face--
And so, my cherry self again,
Come blithely to the surface.
* * * * *