THE CRANK'S COMPLAINT.

Because his verses always aim, With one unwearying design, At adding lustre to the fame Achieved by Britain on the brine; Because they fail to satisfy The sex-besotted catechist— It very nearly makes me cry To see him in the Honour List. Because he holds in high respect The knightly courtesies of war, Does not bow down to intellect, And steeps himself in Froissart's lore; Because he bids us play the game And not the super-egotist— I do not care to see his name Included in the Honour List. Because he has not eulogized The operas of Richard Strauss, Or liberally recognized Keir Hardie's courage in the House; Because he's more an errant knight Than Pacifist or Chauvinist— I feel it is not fair or right To put him in the Honour List. Because he has not wreathed with bays The brow of good Sir William Byles Or lavished undiluted praise Upon the food of Eustace Miles; Or urged that we should subsidize The cult of the Theosophist— It fills me with a sick surprise To find him in the Honour List. Because he hasn't written odes In praise of Norman Angell's views, Or aped the fashionable modes Which modern versifiers use; Because he writes with much restraint And is, in style, a Classicist— It very nearly makes me faint To see him in the Honour List. In fine, while Masterman—O Fi For Asquith's everlasting shame!— MacDonald, Cadbury and I Have each no handle to his name; While Handel Booth's well-earned O.M. Is still conspicuously missed— I can't sufficiently condemn The framing of the Honour List.