THE COMPLAINT OF THE COCKNEY CLERK.
Reading edition
"I know of no cure but for the Englishman (1) to do his best to compete in the particulars where the German now excels; (2) to try to show that, taken all round, he is worth more than the German."
Mr. Gladstone on English Clerks and German Competition.
All very fine, O orator illustrious! But I as soon would be a Mole, or Merman, As a short-grubbing, horribly industrious, Linguistic German. A Clerk's a Clerk, that is a cove who scribbles All day, and then goes in for cue, and "jigger," And not a mere machine who feeds by nibbles, Slaves like a nigger. Learn languages? And for two quid a week? Cut barmaids, billiards, bitter beer and betting? Yah! that may suit a Sausage, or a sneak! Whistles need wetting. That is if they are genuine English whistles, And not dry, hoarse, yah-yah Teutonic throttles. I'm not a donkey who can thrive on thistles. No, that's "no bottles." I've learned my native tongue,—and that's a teaser— I've also learned a lot of slang and patter; But German, French, Italian, Portuguese, Sir, For "screw" no fatter? Not me, my old exuberant Wood-chopper! Level me to the straw-haired Carls and Hermanns? No; there's another trick would do me proper,— Kick out the Germans! Old Bismarck's "Blood and Iron's" a receipt meant For Sour-Kraut gobblers, sandy and sardonic; But for us Britons that Teutonic treatment Is much too tonic. The cheek of 'em just puts me in a rage, Send 'em back home, ah! even pay their passage! Or soon, by Jove, we'll have to call our age, The German "Sauce"-age!