The days are gone when I used to seek
Refreshment and fun in the Henley Week,
But now all that is a thing of the past,
The pace at the time was too good to last.
Farewell to the straws and the flannel shirts,
Farewell to the house-boats, launches, and flirts,
Farewell to champagne cups and cigarettes,
To the gloves and the sweet things lost in bets;
In chambers, alas! I sit and groan,
Slaving, and writing, and waiting alone.
On parchment and paper with pen and ink
I draw the draughts that I cannot drink.
I’ll see if my chief is here … I’ll try.…
He’s off! To Henley?… hem!--So am I!!
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[Illustration: A TESTAMENTARY DISPOSITION.--_Pater._ “Now, my boy, I’ve
been making my will, and I’ve left a very large property in trust for
you. I merely wish to ask you if you’ve any suggestion to offer?”
_Son._ “Well, I don’t know that I have,
sir--unless--hum”--(_ponders_)--“Quesh’n is--as things go nowadays,
wouldn’t it be better to leave the property to the other f’llar,
and--ah--’ppoint me the trustee?!!”]
* * * * *