Whatever the subject that people discuss,

Theology, law, architectural playthings—

St. Albans, for instance—there's ready for us

A lover of knock-me-down language to say things.

Lord Grimthorpe will instantly write to the Times.

His last learned homilies treated of rhymes.

Ne sutor—Lord Grimthorpe could tell you the rest,

Lord Grimthorpe could write you a letter about it,

Lord Grimthorpe, decidedly wisest and best

Of wise and good teachers, no person could doubt it;

Since, be what it may, he will write to the Times,

Church, chancery, chapels, chants, chamfers or chimes.

Ne sutor—the limit should never be past

But where is the limit? He tackles each squabbler.

We see each new letter, but never the last;

All things need repair, and Lord G. is the cobbler.

Cathedrals or canticles—still to the Times

He writes, some might say, neither reasons nor rhymes.