"POOR OLD STICK-IN-THE-MUD! HAD TO DROP HIM! DOOCID SIGHT TOO FOND OF
TELLING ONE THE PLAIN TRUTH ABOUT ONESELF, WHEN ONE'S NOT INCLINED FOR
IT, YOU KNOW! ALWAYS THE WAY WITH THOSE FELLOWS WHO DON'T GET ON!"]


* * * * *

THE FRIEND OF LABOUR.

How doth the provident M.P.
Improve each shining hour,
And in the "Labour Question" see
Hopes of return to power!

How skilfully he shapes his "sell,"
How neatly spreads his "fakes"!
On Labour's ear they sound right well,
The promises he makes.

Skilled Labour, Labour without skill,
He would have busy, too;
Nay, he would find some Labour still
For idle "hands" to do.

Yet, Labour, whatsoe'er he say,
To trust him be not fast;
Or you'll discover, some fine day,
He'll diddle you at last!

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