Classic Poem

Dear Friend, how gladly I would come,
To dine with you and Grey,
Leaving my Little England drum
Behind me for the day.
I'm sure my country's in the right,
I'm longing to avow it,
I want to cheer with all my might,
— But Lloud Jawge won't allow it!

I loathe the Little England lot,
I do, upon my word;
I thought the Queen's Hall meeting rot,
And all it said absurd.
When I peruse the Daily News ,
Its leaders quite upset me,
I'd like to combat all its views,
— But Lloud Jawge wouldn't let me!

Of course I wish the war to cease,
But it would be a sin
For us to even think of peace
Until the Boers give in.

I think their Generals wicked men,
De Wet a perfect bandit;
I'd gladly say so now and then,
— But Lloud Jawge wouldn't stand it!

I'm sure you recognise how hard
The Party is to lead;
And how its prospects would be marred
If you and Grey secede.
I think that Pro-Boer eloquence
Is silly and injurious;
I'd love to come down from the fence,
— But Lloud Jawge would be furious!

And so, I fear, I mustn't dine
With Edward Grey and you,
I'm really sorry to decline —
But what am I to do?
I know you've got more brains than I,
And Grey's a clever fellow,
But if I backed your policy,
Think how Lloud Jawge would bellow