It serves a good purpose, I own: Its strains are devout and impressive-- Its heart-stirring notes raise a lump in our throats As we burn with devotion excessive: But the King, who's been bored by that song From his cradle--each day--all day long-- Who's heard it loud-shouted By throats operatic, And loyally spouted By courtiers emphatic-- By soldier--by sailor--by drum and by fife-- Small blame if he thinks it the plague of his life! While his subjects sing loudly and long, Their King--who would willingly ban them-- Sits, worry disguising, anathematising That Bogie, the National Anthem! [Illustration] JOE GOLIGHTLY OR, THE FIRST LORD'S DAUGHTER A tar, but poorly prized, Long, shambling, and unsightly, Thrashed, bullied, and despised, Was wretched JOE GOLIGHTLY. He bore a workhouse brand; No Pa or Ma had claimed him, The Beadle found him, and The Board of Guardians named him. P'r'aps some Princess's son-- A beggar p'r'aps his mother. _He_ rather thought the one, _I_ rather think the other. He liked his ship at sea, He loved the salt sea-water, He worshipped junk, and he Adored the First Lord's daughter. The First Lord's daughter, proud, Snubbed Earls and Viscounts nightly; She sneered at Barts, aloud, And spurned poor Joe Golightly. Whene'er he sailed afar Upon a Channel cruise, he Unpacked his light guitar And sang this ballad (Boosey): Ballad The moon is on the sea, Willow! The wind blows towards the lee, Willow! But though I sigh and sob and cry, No Lady Jane for me, Willow! She says, "'Twere folly quite, Willow! For me to wed a wight, Willow! Whose lot is cast before the mast"; And possibly she's right, Willow! His skipper (CAPTAIN JOYCE), He gave him many a rating, And almost lost his voice From thus expostulating: [Illustration] "Lay aft, you lubber, do! What's come to that young man, JOE? Belay!--'vast heaving! you! Do kindly stop that banjo! "I wish, I do--O lor'!-- You'd shipped aboard a trader: _Are_ you a sailor or A negro serenader?" But still the stricken lad, Aloft or on his pillow, Howled forth in accents sad His aggravating "Willow!" Stern love of duty had Been JOYCE'S chiefest beauty; Says he, "I love that lad, But duty, damme! duty! "Twelve months' black-hole, I say, Where daylight never flashes; And always twice a day A good six dozen lashes!"