'Tis a norrible tale I'm going to tell
Of the frightful fortunes which befel
A family who late resided
In the same suburban street that I did.
O it is a norrible tale!
'Twould make a Maëterlinck turn pale,
With its frightful blend of the grim and glum,
Of fiddle-de-dee, and fi-fo-fum!
O they were a decent Philistine lot
Till they caught the contagion of "Tommy-Rot,"
That kind of mental, malarial fever,
Which floors the foolish and foils the clever.
O it is a norrible tale, &c.
This Influenza of the Soul
Haunted their house like some gruesome "troll."
(The family--which their name was GIBSON--
Knew all about such from the works of IBSEN.)
The father first felt the spell unholy,
And the man's demeanour grew truly "trolly."
He was--in Peckham--a Master Builder,
And he "carried on" with a drudge named 'TILDER.
The slavey said it was truly thrilling,
But struck for another--weekly--shilling.
"She was ready to thrill till all was blue,
But it _must_ be reckenised in her 'screw!'"
His wife declared he was most inhuman,
And, for her part, she should turn New Woman!
So she grew--to him--an emotional icicle,
And mounted knickers, and rode a bicycle.
The eldest son, an athletic young fellow,
Who had gained his "Blue," took at once to Yellow.
"Muscle," he said, in a tone despotic,
"Is beastly vulgaw; good form's Neurotic!"
The youngest daughter, a blue-eyed fairy--
(Her pies were prime, and her name was MARY--)
Now took to cricket, and cigarette-smoking,
And manly manners in togs--and joking.
The eldest one, of a statelier carriage,
Conceived quaint notions about "Group-marriage:"
"Since man's a satyr, and brings satiety,
The only virtue is--in _variety!_"
Another girl took to writing novels
On dirt in "dosses," and vice in hovels;
Varying the same with Kiplingy verses,
With ingenious rhymes to street-slang and curses.
The youngest boy, who was "only a nipper,"
Contributed "Art" to the "Sixpenny Snipper,"
Which his sisters said was "supremely delicious,
As a blend of the infantile and vicious."
* * * * *
The father died of his drudge and drink,
The wife broke her back at a skating rink;
And as to the slavey, whose name was 'TILDER,
She "thrilled"--on street-preaching and rum--till they killed her.
The eldest son read NORDAU and LOMBROSO,
Till his brain went shaky--'twas always so-so--
He imagines himself a pot of mustard,
Of which egomaniacs are making a custard.
The youngest daughter's an "Amazon Queen"
At the East-end Halls, and she's loud and lean;
The eldest--whose freedom all bonds would sully--
Is tied to--and thrashed by--a pugilist bully.
The writer of sensuous snippety novels,
In Grub Street gutters forlornly grovels;
The "Boy Genius of Gehenna," of the babbling boasters,
Turns a very poor penny by Stygian Posters!
O it _is_ a norrible tale!
And what do New Women and New Art avail?
Egomania-Tommyrotica is all a hum,
Half fiddle-de-dee, and half fi-fo-fum!
* * * * *
BANDS AND BOMBS.--How many Hungarian Bands are there about?
There's a "Real Blue Hungarian" (does this mean a "True Blue," good old
Tory, Band?)--there's an "Anglo-Hungarian," and a "White Hungarian." In
fact, Hungarian Band "with variations." The Real Hung'ry-an'-Thirsty
Bands are to be seen every night in the Feeding Places of the Indian
Exhibition, Earl's Court, where, specially within the bowers of the al
fresco Welcome Club, _can_ be served a very good dinner which _may_ be
bettered; and, if you are a Lucullus, you _comme gourmet_ will have to
Look-ullus-where for it. [N.B.--To get this jest well received give
the dinner yourself, and towards the middle of the feast try the jape.
They'll all laugh _en--mais après?_]
* * * * *
[Illustration: "AYE! BUT HOW?"
_Squire_ (_in dog-cart_). "HERE! YOU FOOL! HOLD HIS HEAD!!"]
* * * * *