Classic Poem

M R . Orator P UFF had two tones in his voice,
The one squeaking thus, and the other down so!
In each sentence he uttered he gave you your choice,
For one was B alt, and the rest G below.
Oh! oh, Orator Puff!
One voice for one orator's surely enough.

But he still talked away spite of coughs and of frowns,
So distracting all ears with his ups and his downs,
That a wag once on hearing the orator say,
“My voice is for war,” asked him,
“Which of them, pray?”
Oh! oh! etc.

Reeling homewards one evening, top-heavy with gin,
And rehearsing his speech on the weight of the crown,
He tript near a sawpit, and tumbled right in,
“Sinking Fund,” the last words as his noddle came down.
Oh! oh, etc.

“Help! help!” he exclaimed, in his he and she tones,
“Help me out! help me out—I have broken my bones!”
“Help you out?” said a Paddy who passed, “what a bother!
Why, there 's two of you there, can't you help one another?”
Oh! oh! etc.