When golfers cease to play with gutties
And soldiers ease their calves in puttees,
Troubles will surely supervene
Upon the European scene.
When nobody talks of drives and putts,
And butter is made from cocoa-nuts,
And women pilot our cabs and coaches,
The end of the Hohenzollerns approaches.
When PONSONBY and BERNARD SHAW
Join hands with ASQUITH and BONAR LAW,
Lord ROSEBERY and Sir THOMAS LIPTON,
Look out for squalls, says Mother Tipton.
Should BEGBIE interview the POPE,
Pacificists may harbour hope;
But if the POPE is not at home
There'll be the deuce of a row in Rome
When all the masses are daily fed
Upon sweet peas and Standard bread,
It is perfectly safe to prophesy
The end of the world will soon be nigh.
* * * * *
[Illustration: SECOND NATURE.
_Absent-minded Colonel (as sidesmen march up to the altar with
offertory)._ "PICK UP THE STEP THERE IN THE REAR FILE!"]
* * * * *