――――:o:―――― OUR FLEET. You――you――if you have read the silly rhymes About our Fleet just published in the _Times_―― Should raise your hands and righteously exclaim: “If this be poetry, What the de’il is fame?” “This isle the mightiest naval power on earth, This one small isle――the land of every sea―― Poor England!”――what are Poets Laureate worth? And what avail thy ancient fame, oh T., When thou art fallen from thy high estate? You――you――who had the penning of those lines―― If you have compassed your own disgrace, When all men laugh――“the wild mob’s million feet” Will kick thee to a place――the name’s not long―― It’s called by the polite――“Hong Kong!” _Moonshine_, May 9, 1885. ――――:o:―――― “I am informed by a perfectly unreliable correspondent that the following poem――evidently composed by a dynamiter who reads his _Times_ and his Tennyson attentively――was picked up in Mr. Swainson’s room at the Admiralty after the recent explosion.” You――you――_if_ you have failed to understand The lesson taught by previous blow-ups, Learn that on you the weight of Rossa’s hand―― When he’s not in his cups―― Still falls, despotic State! This man, the noisiest Fenian on the earth, Has sworn a swear to ne’er let Britain be. Poor England! what are all thy bobbies worth, And what avail detectives unto thee, To guard thee from his hate? You――you――who catch a Cunningham or so, _If_ you imagine that the danger’s o’er, You’re much mistaken, as you’ll shortly know, So now to gain the door And slope――ere it’s too late! _Funny Folks_, May 9, 1885. [This poem is founded upon two erroneous assumptions, namely that the explosion at the Admiralty was caused by dynamite, and that it was of Fenian origin. Colonel Majendie has expressed his confident opinion that the explosion was caused by the firing of about 12-lbs. of gunpowder enclosed in a metal pot; and the personal unpopularity of the unfortunate Mr. Swainson is considered a far more likely cause for the outrage, than any political motive.] ―――――――― The eight following parodies of _The Fleet_, were published in _The Weekly Dispatch_ Prize Competition of May 10th, 1885, the First Prize of Two Guineas was awarded to Mrs. Emily Lawrence, for the following:―― Whew! whew! _if_ you are hailed the master-hand―― The Laureate of England over all―― On you will come the laugh of all the land If you to bathos fall, Who erst did things so great. This verse――the veriest doggrel verse on earth―― For this small beer were you a lord to be? Poor Tennyson! what is your purple worth? And what avails thine ancient fame to thee, Now in thy fallen state?