Then follow his brilliant example, Ye chauffeurs to 'joy-riding' prone, And seek by apologies ample For sins of the past to atone. Your pace do not quicken when dog or when chicken In 'bonnet' or brake gets entangled, Nor fly in a flutter, and leave in the gutter The man whom your motor has mangled; But after you've pounced like a hawk on your quarry, Just stop for a moment, and say that you're sorry! THE PARISH PUMP (A BALLADE) ['The parish pump is the best friend of the teacher of history, and the man who, on the basis of Imperialism, sneers at the parish pump, does not know what he is talking about.'--Canon MASTERMAN.] The pedagogue his desk may thump And lecture, with a skill profound, On Parliaments called 'Long' or 'Rump,' On Scone (where Scottish kings were crowned); On butts of Malmsey wine which drowned The Prince who chanced therein to jump; On Richard, Gloucester's Duke, renowned For having a perpetual 'hump'; On Runnymede's immoral clump, Where poor King John was run to ground And signed the Charter (on a stump) Whereon our liberties we found; On Windsor, where, with horse and hound, The eighth King Henry grew so plump, And where the doleful courtiers frowned When George the Third went off his chump! Such facts I simply cannot lump, Preferring greatly to expound The tale of how Sir Joseph Crump Expended many a well-earned pound (No better Mayor was ever found, Although his lady _is_ a frump!) On giving Mugley-on-the-Mound A presentation Parish Pump. Then beat the tabor, blow the trump! Let welkins with your shouts resound! The cause of Empire cannot slump While noble deeds like this abound! Go, children, pass the story round Of how the head of Crump and Comp: (Whose enemies may Fate confound!) Supplied the Parish with a Pump! POLICE COURT SENSE ['The evidence that I heard totally failed to satisfy me that he was drunk at all in what, for want of a better definition of the term, I may call the Police Court sense.'--Mr. CHESTER JONES.] When Uncle Edward comes to dine, He drinks such quantities of wine, You never know How far he'll go, Or what he'll leave unsaid; He frequently insults his host, And quotes things from the _Winning Post_, Until, with sighs, His friends arise And bear him off to bed. But as they leave him in his bunk, With what a joy intense They realise he is not drunk-- In the Police Court sense! [Illustration]