LITMIR.BIZ

      Some prate of patriotism, and some of cheap defence,

      But to the high official mind that's all absurd pretence;

      For of all the joys of snubbing, there's none to it so dear,

      As to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      A patriotic Laureate may bid the Rifles form,

      And Citizens may look to them for safety in War's storm;

      But Secretaries, Dooks, and such at this delight to jeer,

      And to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      A semi-swell he may be, but he may be a mere clerk,

      And he's an interloper, and to snub him is a lark.

      Sometimes he licks the Regulars, and so our duty's clear,

      'Tis to snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      He hankers for an increase in his Capitation Grant,

      It's like his precious impudence, and have the lift he shan't.

      What, make it easier for him to run us close? No fear!

      We'll snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      He has a fad for Wimbledon, but that is just a whim,

      And as eviction's all the go, we'll try it upon him.

      He's not an Irish tenant, so no one will interfere,

      When once more we snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      His targets and his tents and things are nuisances all round,

      As Jerry-Builders, Dooks, and other Toffs have lately found,

      Compared with bricks and mortar and big landlords he's small beer,

      So we'll snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      The Common's vastly handy, there's no doubt, to chaps in town,

      And crowds of Cockneys to the butts can quickly hurry down;

      But what are all Town's Cockneys to one solitary Peer?

      No; let us snub, snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      Your Citizen who wants to play at soldiers need not look

      To have his little way as though he were a Royal Dook;

      With building-leases – sacred things! – he must not interfere,

      So let us snub, snub, snub, snub, snub the British Volunteer!

      If he must shoot his annual shoot somewhere, why, let him go

      To Pirbright or to Salisbury Plain, or e'en to Jericho.

      But out from his loved Wimbledon he'll surely have to clear,

      A final snub, snub, snub, snub, snub to the British Volunteer!

      A's the Alarm that the Country's defenceless.

      B's the Belief such assertions are senseless.

      C's the Commission that sits with regard to them;

      D's our Defences – the one topic barred to them!

      E's the Expense – it's supposed we shall grudge it!

      F is the Fear of increasing the Budget.

      G stands for Guns, which we thought we had got.

      H is the Howl when we hear we have not.

      I's the Inquiry, abuses to right meant;

      J is the Judgment (a crushing indictment!);

      K is the Knot of red tape someone ties on it;

      L's Limbo – where no one will ever set eyes on it!

      M is the Murmur, too quickly forgotten.

      N is our Navy, which some say is rotten.

      O's the Official who bungles with bonhomie.

      P's Party-Government – all for Economy.

      Q is the Question engrossing our Statesmen.

      R is Retrenchment, which so fascinates men.

      S stands for Services, starved (out of Policy).

      T is the Time when – too late! – we our folly see.

      U is the Uproar of Struggle Titanic;

      V is the Vote we shall pass in a panic.

      W's War – with the Capture of London.

      X our Xplosions of fury, when undone.

      Y is the Yoke we shall have to get used to.

      Z is the Zero our Empire's reduced to!