THE dreadful Dragon and the Unicorn,

Accustomed to be treated with respect,

And much annoyed by present-day neglect,

Have sometimes wished they never had been born,

At least in any world so "unselect."

Their non-existence being now a "fact"

Accepted by mankind's majority,

They naturally feel quite "up a tree."

They don't know what to do to counteract

These damned delusions of Democracy.

Although they often walk out in the sun,

And show themselves in all important streets,

Although in fact they have their "regular beats,"

They're hardly ever seen by any one,

And get no notice in the "daily sheets."

Although as signs they hang on various inns,

They find themselves irrevocably "out."

Original

In vain they prance and caracole about,

Even the tribute of "derisive grins"

Is now denied them in their final rout.

Mere non-belief in his existence may

Seem, to one emptying a festive flagon

In the interior of the "Wasp and Wagon,"

A very trifling matter any way.

But it is most annoying to the Dragon.

The subject may appear beneath contempt

To one who holds the world's applause in scorn,

Preferring in a cloister to adorn

"Illumined scrolls in heavenly colours dreamt,"

But it is galling to the Unicorn.