What cups of tea were ever brewed
Like Sairey Gamp's--the dear old sinner?
What savoury mess was ever stewed
Like that for Short's and Codlin's dinner?
What was the flavour of that "poy" -
To use the Fotheringay's own diction -
Pendennis ate, the love-sick boy?
There's nothing like the food of fiction.

Prince, you are young--but you will find
After life's years of fret and friction,
That hunger wanes--but never mind!
There's nothing like the food of fiction.



"A HIGHLY VALUABLE CHAIN OF THOUGHTS"



Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn,
No man would be a funker
Of whin, or burn, or bunker.
There were no need for mashies,
The turf would ne'er be torn,
Had cigarettes no ashes,
And roses ne'er a thorn.