K
for the Klond.y.k.e, a Country of Gold, Where the winters are often excessively cold; Where the lawn every morning is covered with rime, And skating continues for years at a time.
Do you think that a Climate can conquer the grit Of the Sons of the West? Not a bit! Not a bit!
When the weather looks nippy, the bold Pioneers Put on two pairs of Stockings and cover their ears, And roam through the drear Hyperborean dales With a vast apparatus of Buckets and Pails;
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Or wander through wild Hyperborean glades With Hoes, Hammers, Pickaxes, Matlocks and Spades.
There are some who give rise to exuberant mirth By turning up nothing but bushels of earth, While those who have little cause excellent fun By attempting to pilfer from those who have none.
At times the reward they will get for their pains Is to strike very tempting auriferous veins; Or, a shaft being sunk for some miles in the ground, Not infrequently nuggets of value are found.
They bring us the gold when their labours are ended, And we--after thanking them prettily--spend it.
MORAL.
Just you work for Humanity, never you mind If Humanity seems to have left you behind.
L
was a Lady, Advancing in Age, Who drove in her carriage and six, With a Couple of Footmen a Coachman and Page, Who were all of them regular bricks.
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If the Coach ran away, or was smashed by a Dray, Or got into collisions and blocks, The Page, with a courtesy rare for his years, Would leap to the ground with inspiriting cheers, While the Footman allayed her legitimate fears, And the Coachman sat tight on his box.
At night as they met round an excellent meal, They would take it in turn to observe: "What a Lady indeed! ... what a presence to Feel! ..."
"What a Woman to worship and serve! ..."
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But, perhaps, the most poignant of all their delights Was to stand in a rapturous Dream When she spoke to them kindly on Sat.u.r.day Nights, And said "They deserved her Esteem."
MORAL.
Now observe the Reward of these dutiful lives: At the end of their Loyal Career They each had a Lodge at the end of the drives, And she left them a Hundred a Year.
Remember from this to be properly vexed When the newspaper editors say, That "The type of society shown in the Text "Is rapidly pa.s.sing away."
M
was a Millionaire who sat at Table, And ate like this--
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as long as he was able; At half-past twelve the waiters turned him out: He lived impoverished and died of gout.
MORAL.
Disgusting exhibition! Have a care When, later on, you are a Millionaire, To rise from table feeling you could still Take something more, and not be really ill.
N
stands for Ned, Maria"s younger brother,
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Who, walking one way, chose to gaze the other.
In Blandford Square--a crowded part of town-- Two People on a tandem knocked him down; Whereat
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a Motor Car, with warning shout, Ran right on top and turned him inside out: The damages that he obtained from these Maintained him all his life in cultured ease.
MORAL.
The law protects you. Go your gentle way: The Other Man has always got to Pay.
O
stands for Oxford. Hail! salubrious seat Of learning! Academical Retreat!
Home of my Middle Age! Malarial Spot Which People call Medeeval (though it"s not).
The marshes in the neighbourhood can vie With Cambridge, but the town itself is dry, And serves to make a kind of Fold or Pen
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Wherein to herd a lot of Learned Men.
Were I to write but half of what they know, It would exhaust the s.p.a.ce reserved for "O"; And, as my book must not be over big, I turn at once to "P," which stands for Pig.
MORAL.
Be taught by this to speak with moderation Of places where, with decent application, One gets a good, sound, middle-cla.s.s education.
P