Sad is the sight, but not so strange,

When the dead leaf to earth declines:

I have observed this annual change

As one of Autumn's surest signs;

But oh, how very odd it is

To mark the falling prices of commodities.

One had supposed the boom of War

(Still raging with the desperate Turk),

Whose closure seemed past praying for,

Would carry on its hideous work

And swell for years and years

The bulging waistcoats of our profiteers.

But lo! a lot of useful wares

Within my modest range have come;

Trousers, I hear, are sold (in pairs)

At three-fifteen—a paltry sum;

And you can even get

Dittos as low as thirteen pounds the set.

I can afford a further lump

Of sugar in my cocoa—yes,

And cocoa too is on the slump,

Its "second grade" now costs me less;

And green peas (marrowfat)

Are down to fourpence. I can run to that.

And, though my coffers, sadly thinned,

May not command a home-killed ham,

And though the fees for pilchards (tinned)

And eggs (to eat) and strawberry-jam

Are still beyond my means

(The same remark applies to butter-beans);

Yet milk (condensed) and salmon ("pink"),

And arrowroot and pines (preserved)—

All "easier," I am glad to think—

These, and a soul not yet unnerved,

Shall keep me going strong,

Now that the price of boots is not so long.