Fiscal Ballads

 
In spite o' this foolish fiscal fuss;
Tho' their peoples ain't no better paid,
Nor near as well orf for food as us;
For, wotever the German workman's lot,
'E knows 'ow to use wot brains 'e's got!
 
 
An' if our employers 'd only learn
A few o' they furrin commercial ways,
To make the business their first concern,
An' not be so set upon 'olidays,
They wouldn't be always a-'urrying orf,
For the sake of a afternoon at gorf!
 
 
With the wants o' the trade they'd keep in touch,
An' 'd sometimes stay at the orfice late;
If their business methods ain't up to much,
They, at any rate, could be up-to-date!
For there isn't no need of a fiscal fence,
If you've henergy coupled wi' common-sense!
 
 
We English ain't a-doing our best,
An' that's the reason we loses ground;
It's time as we took more interest,
An' the chance 'as come to buck-up all round.
No need for to put it in doggerel rhymes,
To see as we're right be'ind the times.
 
 
For it's Heducation we wants, that's all,
To make us the country we ought to be.
If we rides for a fall at a tariff wall,
We'll very soon find ourselves at sea.
(Which the simile's somewot mixed, you'll say,
But the meanin's clear as the open day!)
 
 
Then 'ere's a 'ealth to the Motherland,
For all as they says she's goin' to pot;
Ole England's 'wooden walls' 'll stand
When the fiscal fences is all forgot!
An' she'll 'old 'er own, by land or sea,
So long as 'er sons an' 'er trade is free!
 

CONTROVERSIAL ENTERTAINMENT

 
On Saturdays I often goes
An' spends a evenin' in the pit
At one of them vari'ty shows,
An' makes a 'appy night of it;
But since this fiscal row begun,
I've 'ad to look elsewheres for fun.
 
 
I'm partial to a music-'all,
But when last week I chanced to go,
I 'eard some low-necked blighter bawl
A Jingo song in praise o' Joe;
'No more will England,' sez this crank,
'Trade with the German an' the Yank!'
 
 
At furrin countries, o'er the sea,
A lot o' silly jeers 'e 'urled;
Thinks I, where would ole England be
Without the market o' the world?
We'd make a living, I suppose,
A washin' of each other's clo's!
 
 
Nex' come the cinematograph,
An' Joe, I needn't say, was there;
A picture of 'is upper 'alf,
A-settin' smilin' in a chair.
(There's no photographer in town
Would dare to 'take 'im lying down!')
 
 
Then a play-actress come along,
A saucy bunnet on 'er 'ead;
She didn't sing no fiscal song,
She spoke a fiscal pome instead.
'These is,' she 'astened to explain,
'The words o' Joseph Chamberlain!'
 
 
I 'eard that Yankee lady's rhyme,
An' then I took my coat an' 'at;
I've read some drivel in my time,
But nothink quite so bad as that.
(She was a Himport, I suppose,
Dumped down by foes o' poor ole Joe's!)
 
 
I took the kids to Drury Lane,
An' 'eard a lion comic sing
A song as told us once again
To keep 'Protecting' hev'rything.
Thinks I, 'ullo! but if that's so,
Can't we protect ourselves from Joe?
 
 
I ain't bad-tempered, 'Eaven knows;
A peaceful life is wot I'd choose;
If people likes this scheme o' Joe's,
They're more than welcome to their views;
They loves dear food, I've not a doubt,
An' any'ow that's their look-out.
 
 
But when I seeks the gall'ry door
At one of them there public shows,
I doesn't pay a bob or more
To 'ear about this plan o' Joe's;
I simply wants to get away
From controversies of the day.
 
 
We 'as enough o' argument
At 'ome, on 'bus-top, tube, or train;
An' most on us 'll be content
If 'entertainments' entertain;
But Joe's as bad as the perlice,
'E won't give no one any peace.
 
 
An' seems to me, as plain as day,
It's actors' business to amuse;
If they can't no'ow keep away
From giving us their fiscal views,
Why should the public be denied
A chance to 'ear the other side?
 
 
I 'opes it won't be very long
Afore George Robey lets us 'ear
A really fust-class fiscal song
Wrote by the Dook o' Devonsheer;
While on the biograph we sees
Them comic cuts o' F.C.G.'s.
 
 
If Ruddy Kipling would but write
A Free Trade ballad, or a glee,
Which Arthur Roberts could recite,
Or Dunville sing with Mr. Tree,
I'd pay my money at the door,
Nor wouldn't ask for nothin' more.
 
 
But while the music-'alls descend
To nothing but Protection 'turns,'
There's other better ways to spend
The little money that I earns.
I only asks to see fair-play,
An', failin' that, I'll stop away.