But that is not the only class of humour of which Chesterton is capable. He can cut as well as hack. It is to be doubted whether any politician was ever addressed in lines more sarcastic than those of _Antichrist_, an ode to Mr. F. E. Smith. This gentleman, speaking on the Welsh Disestablishment Bill, remarked that it "has shocked the conscience of every Christian community in Europe." It begins: Are they clinging to their crosses, F. E. Smith. Where the Breton boat-fleet tosses, Are they, Smith? Do they, fasting, tramping, bleeding, Wait the news from this our city? Groaning "That's the Second Reading!" Hissing "There is still Committee!" If the voice of Cecil falters, If McKenna's point has pith, Do they tremble for their altars? Do they, Smith? Then in Russia, among the peasants, Where Establishment means nothing And they never heard of Wales, Do they read it all in Hansard With a crib to read it with-- "Welsh Tithes: Dr. Clifford answered." Really, Smith? The final verse is: It would greatly, I must own, Soothe me, Smith, If you left this theme alone, Holy Smith! For your legal cause or civil You fight well and get your fee; For your God or dream or devil You will answer, not to me. Talk about the pews and steeples And the Cash that goes therewith! But the souls of Christian peoples . . . --Chuck it, Smith!