"What matters it how grand we are!" his plated friend replied,
If our destiny is Salad, or the Sausage boiled or fried?
Though we breed strife 'twixt England, and America, and France,
If we're chopped up, or boiled, or brained where is _our_ great advance?
Will you, won't you, will you, won't you chuck away a chance
Of peace in pig-stye, or at sea, to play the game of France?"

"Thank you, it's a very amusing dance--_to watch_," said ALICE,
feeling very glad that she had not to stand up in it.

"You may not have lived much under the Sea" (said the Real Turtle)
("I haven't," said ALICE), "and perhaps you were never introduced to
a Lobster--" (ALICE began to say "I once tasted--" but checked herself
hastily, and said, "No, never"),--"So you can have no idea what a
delightful dance a (Diplomatic) Lobster Quadrille is!"

"I dare say not," said ALICE.

"Stand up and repeat '_'Tis the Voice of the Premier_,'" said the
Griffin.

ALICE got up and began to repeat it, but her head was so full of
Lobsters, Pigs, and Seals, that she hardly knew what she was saying,
and the words came very queer indeed:--

"'Tis the voice of the Premier; I heard him complain
On the Ninth of November all prophecy's vain.
I _must_ make some sort of a speech, I suppose.
Dear DIZZY (who led the whole world by the nose)