As for fashion, they forswear it, So they say, And the circle--they will square it Some fine day; Then the little pigs they're teaching For to fly; And the niggers they'll be bleaching By-and-by! Each newly joined aspirant To the clan Must repudiate the tyrant Known as Man; They mock at him and flout him, For they do not care about him, And they're "going to do without him" If they can! These are the phenomena That every pretty domina Hopes that we shall see At this Universitee! [Illustration] THE BISHOP OF RUM-TI-FOO From east and south the holy clan Of Bishops gathered, to a man; To Synod, called Pan-Anglican, In flocking crowds they came. Among them was a Bishop, who Had lately been appointed to The balmy isle of Rum-ti-Foo, And PETER was his name. His people--twenty-three in sum-- They played the eloquent tum-tum, And lived on scalps served up in rum-- The only sauce they knew. When first good Bishop PETER came (For PETER was that Bishop's name), To humour them, he did the same As they of Rum-ti-Foo. His flock, I've often heard him tell, (His name was PETER) loved him well, And summoned by the sound of bell, In crowds together came. "Oh, massa, why you go away? Oh, Massa PETER, please to stay." (They called him PETER, people say, Because it was his name.) He told them all good boys to be, And sailed away across the sea, At London Bridge that Bishop he Arrived one Tuesday night-- And as forthwith he homeward strode To his Pan-Anglican abode, He passed along the Borough Road And saw a gruesome sight. He saw a crowd assembled round A person dancing on the ground, Who straight began to leap and bound With all his might and main. To see that dancing man he stopped, Who twirled and wriggled, skipped and hopped, Then down incontinently dropped, And then sprang up again. The Bishop chuckled at the sight, "This style of dancing would delight A simple Rum-ti-Foozleite, I'll learn it if I can, To please the tribe when I get back." He begged the man to teach his knack. "Right Reverend Sir, in half a crack," Replied that dancing man. The dancing man he worked away-- And taught the Bishop every day-- The dancer skipped like any fay-- Good PETER did the same. The Bishop buckled to his task With _battements_, cuts, and _pas de basque_ (I'll tell you, if you care to ask, That PETER was his name). [Illustration]