* * * * *
=MY APOLOGIA.=
(_Lines accidentally omitted from a notorious volume of Memoirs._)
If life is dull and day by day
I see that wittier, wiser
England where I was wont to play
(Being as bold as I was gay)
Keep passing rapidly away
All through the German KAISER;
If "Souls" are not the things they were,
If caste declines and Vandals
Go practically everywhere
From Cavendish to Berkeley Square,
And dowdy frumps without the "air"
Monopolise the scandals;
There is but one thing left to do--
And what's a sporting flutter worth
Unless one takes a risk or two?--
"I'll shock the world," I thought, "anew,"
And (ultimately) did so through
The firm of THORNTON BUTTERWORTH.
Two worlds indeed. The mighty West
Poured out her untold money
To gaze upon my palimpsest;
I think that Codex A was best,
But parts of this have been suppressed;
Publishers are so funny.
And now my fame through London rings
In well-bred speech and _argot_;
At mild suburban tea-makings
The postman knocks, and poor dear things
Tear wildly at the parcel-strings
When MUDIE gives them MARGOT.
Pressmen have tried to make a lot
Out of a certain instance
Of mild misstatement as to what
Happened in 1914. Rot!
All I can say is that my plot
Has much more _verve_ than WINSTON'S.
Well, never mind. The work is done;
People who do not need it--
The wit, the fire, the force, the fun,
The pathos--let them simply shun
This frightful book, shout "Shame!" and run;
Nobody's _forced_ to read it.