For if Progressist fingers
Once dip into our pan,
Aloud, but vainly, we may cry,
Whist! whist! the Bogie Man!

_Chorus_.--Oh, hush! hush! hush!
Here comes the Bogie Man!
Then hide your heads, my darlings;
He'll catch ye if he can.
Then whist! whist! whist!
This new Progressive plan
Would make our popsey-wopsey-wops
Slaves to this Bogie Man!

In vain the _Times_ might thunder,
In vain the _Standard_ squall,
To frighten little Moderates;
They paid no heed at all
When CHURCHILL tried yah-boohing,
Away the Voters ran
And voted straight, with hearts elate,
For yonder Bogie Man!

_Chorus_.--Oh, hush! hush! hush!
Here comes the Bogie Man!
He'll collar all our civic perks,
'Tis his "Progressive" plan.
Oh, whist! whist! whist!
He'll catch ye if he can.
Heaven save you, my own popsey-wops,