Anything meaning morbid whim;
Quidnuncs will cry, "What treuth! what _vim_!"
_Chorus_--Tra-la-la! "Boom" to-day!
[_As long as you like_!

VI.

Or would you even higher fly,
And found a "Cult"? You've but to try.
That blend fools follow in full cry,
Meaninglessness _plus_ Mystery!
A witch astride upon a broom,
A bogie in a darkened room,
Nonsense and nubibustic gloom,--
Mix them like witch-broth; they will "boom"!
_Chorus_--Tra-la! We "boom" to-day!
[_Till you are tired of it._

VII.

Boom! Boom! 'Twill bring in cent. per cent.,
With that Big Drum, Advertisement.
Nonsense, with _nous_ discreetly blent,
Finds the world cheated--and content.
But "make your game" while yet there's room,
For novel shapes of quackery. Doom
Awaits us in the outer gloom:
A day _may_ come when Bosh _won't_ "Boom"!

_Chorus._