["The water in the canals is two feet in depth, and is kept at
a temperature of sixty degrees."
_Vidé the Press on "Venice at Olympia."_]
[Illustration]
O Jane, thou jewel of my heart--
Thou object of my hopeless passion,
Though Fate decrees that we must part,
I'll leave thee in some novel fashion!
I will not do as others do
When cheated of prospective bridal,
And quit the Bridge of Waterloo
With header swift and suicidal.
I will not seek--as others seek--
Some public-house in mean and _low_ street,
And drink--till haled before the Beak
Who patiently presides at Bow Street.
I will not throw--as others throw--
My manly form, without compunction,
Before the frequent trains that go
At lightning speed through Clapham Junction.
For though my spirit seeks escape
From all the carking cares that vex it,
I will not plunge thee into crape
By any ordinary exit:
So when--in slang--I "take my hook,"
Detesting all that's mean and skimpy, a
Reserved and numbered seat I'll book,
And hie to Venice at Olympia.
I'll see the Show that draws the town--
Its pageantry delight affording--
As per the details noted down
Where posters flame on every hoarding;
And then the sixpence I will pay,
Which in my pocket now I'm fondling,
And try upon the water-way
The new experience of gondling.
I know that death will seem delight
When in the gondola I'm seated,
For up to sixty Fahrenheit
The Grand Canal is nicely heated;
So--sick of life's incessant storm,
Impatient of its kicks and pinches--
I'll plunge within the water warm,
And drown--in four-and-twenty inches!
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