My classics were not shaky, nor my mathematics weak,
My great linguistic fluency enabled me to speak
In half-a-dozen languages with quite surprising skill,
And yet—I always felt it—there was something lacking still.
But, though profoundly conscious of a lingering defect,
The cause of imperfection I was puzzled to detect,
But Canon Furse explains it; for I sorrow to relate,
I shunned all public meetings, which accounted for my state.
Well, over chances past and gone, 'twere idle to shed tears,
I'm striving now to rectify the fault of former years,
And every afternoon and night I rush from street to street,
Endeavouring to make my education more "complete."
Where Anti-Vivisectionists their armaments encamp,
Where Democrats democratise, and stage-reformers ramp,
Where fervent Ulstermen point out that Morley is a fool,
Where Parnellites insist upon the beauty of Home Rule;
Where lecturers with lanterns make the vice of drinking clear,
Where publicans prove amply that our only hope is beer,—
To each and all of these I come, a champion of the cause,
And sit imbibing wisdom, and I join in the applause;
I join in the applause, and—yes! The Anti-Smoking cranks
Invited me, not long ago, to move a vote of thanks!
Ah, happy, happy moment, when I stood, composed but proud,
And looked at Mr. Chairman, and the hushed, expectant crowd!
Yes, Canon Furse, I thank you for your warning so discreet;
Indeed, our education now is wholly incomplete
Unless we meet and "sympathise," "insist on," and "deplore,"
And listen to the prattling Prig, the Faddist, and the Bore!
