And last they hurtled amongst us, and then there were tales to tell, For all of us seemed to be scattered and torn, and all of us shrieked and fell; And John, who is plump, got an awful bump, and Helen, who's tall and thin, Was shot through a shrub and gained in bruise as much as she lost in skin; And Rosamond's frock was rent in rags, and tattered in strips was Peg's, And both of them suffered the ninepin fate to the ruin of arms and legs; And every face was licked by a dog, and battered was every limb, When Duke ran round in a circle and Soo-Ti ran after him. ODE TO JOHN BRADBURY (THE NOTES FOR £1 AND 10S ARE SIGNED BY JOHN BRADBURY) When the Red KAISER, swoll'n with impious pride And stuffed with texts to serve his instant need, Took Shame for partner and Disgrace for guide, Earned to the full the hateful traitor's meed, And bade his hordes advance Through Belgium's cities towards the fields of France; And when at last our patient island race, By the attempted wrong Made fierce and strong, Flung back the challenge in the braggart's face, Oh then, while martial music filled the air, Clarion and fife and bagpipe and the drum, Calling to men to muster, march, and dare, Oh, then thy day, JOHN BRADBURY, was come. JOHN BRADBURY, the Muse shall fill my strain To sing thy praises; thou hadst spent thy time Not idly, nor hadst lived thy life in vain, Unfitted for the guerdon of my rhyme. For lo, the Funds went sudden crashing down, And men grew pale with monetary fear, And in the toppling mart The stoutest heart Melted, and fortunes seemed to disappear; And some, forgetting their austere renown, Went mad and sold Whate'er they could and wildly called for Gold! "Since through no fault of ours the die was cast We shall go forth and fight In death's despite And shall return victorious at the last; But how, ah how," they said, "Shall we and ours be fed And clothed and housed from dreary day to day, If, while our hearths grow cold, we have no coin to pay?" Then thou, where no gold was and little store Of silver, didst appear and wave thy pen, And with thy signature Make things secure, Bidding us all pluck up our hearts once more And face our foolish fancied fears like men. "I give you notes," you said, "of different kinds To ease your anxious minds: The one is black and shall be fairly found Equal in value to a golden pound; The other--mark its healthy scarlet print-- Is worth a full half-sovereign from the Mint." Thus didst thou speak--at least I think thou didst-- And, lo, the murmurs fell And all things went right well, While thy notes fluttered in our happy midst. Therefore our grateful hearts go forth to thee, Our British note-provider, brave JOHN BRADBURY! TEETH-SETTING (1914)