So ends the feast, and if I heard The twitter of the morning bird, What matter, we have known good cheer-- Good-bye, old friends, until next year. BALLAD OF THE BUDGET YEAR 1909 'Ees a-going down to London town, my lord as lives on the 'ill, And 'e leaves to-day, the folks do say, to vote 'gainst the Budget Bill. It be now a score of years or more since 'es left 'is 'igh-walled seat, But 'es going away, for 'ells to pay and the Welshman must be beat. It do seem queer 'is leavin' 'ere, and I'm doctorin' for the gout, For 'tween countin' rents and pounds and pence 'es never gone much about. It's the Welshman's scheme that spoiled his dream, it's something about the land, So 'es off, my lord, to protect his 'oard from the bloomin' hupstart's 'and. They be askin' gold for the fleet, I'm told, and they only ask what's fair, But 'im up there with 'is lordly air and wantin' to pay 'is share. Well, I don't think much about law and such, but this I 'as to say, If the people's right, and it comes to a fight, 'is lordship will 'ave to pay. Lor' bless the fleet, she's 'ard to beat, and she allus has been our pride, An' I'd shout for joy like a Devon boy, if I could but see her ride Out o'er the sea as she used to be, the queen of the worldwide main, With her cheerin' tars, and her bristlin' spars, and honour without a stain. It's twenty years since the 'Ouse of Peers 'as seen 'im, and is it right That the people's will 'is kind can kill, and do it all in a night? 'E ain't been stirred like this, we 'eard, since the days of Gladstone's bill, But I'll bet my forge 'im they calls George will win, and I 'opes 'e will. "THE PIPE" Because you love the fragrant weed, good friend, This honest pipe in fellowship we send; A true companion that has blessed mankind, 'Twill solace bring of peace to heart and mind. 'Tis hewed from wood of purest briar strain, 'Tis earthborn, nursed by sunshine, wind, and rain; 'Tis forest bred, a child of solitude, And thus to lonely hearts 'tis drink and food. Fill it, and to your mind it will conjure Visions of joy to be that long endure. Fill it, it asks no more than it can hold, And 'twill repay your faith a thousandfold. Light it, and when it feels the flaming kiss 'Twill throb and glow, returning bliss for bliss; Light it, and it will answer to your touch, No sweetheart's kiss will ere repay so much. Smoke it, and as the azure wreaths arise, 'Twill soothe as sweet as sweetest lullabys. Smoke it, and it will bring a strange delight, A constant joy by daytime or by night. Smoke it, it asks you but attention's wage, And, like good wine, 'twill sweeten with old age; Friends may turn foes and fortune fair may frown, But pipes are friends that seldom turn us down.