Poem by Pelham Grenville Wodehouse

A Solitary Triumph

OH, the progress of Woman has really been vast 
    Since Civilization began. 
She’s usurped all the qualities which in the past 
    Were reckoned peculiar to Man. 
She can score with a bat, use a rod or a cue; 
    Her tennis and golf are sublime. 
Her aim with a gun is uncommonly true, 
    But Man beats her hollow at crime.
 
The strings to her bow are both varied and quaint; 
    There are maids who can work with the pen, 
There are maids who can handle the palette and paint 
    With a skill that’s not given to men. 
There are ladies who preach, lady doctors there are, 
    MPs will be ladies in time, 
And ladies, I hear, practise now at the Bar – 
    But Man holds the record for crime.
 
So it’s hey for the jemmy, and ho for the drill, 
    And hurrah for the skeleton keys. 
Oh, to burgle a house or to rifle a till! 
    I am more than her equal at these. 
She may beat me at home, she may beat me afield; 
    In her way I admit she is prime. 
But one palm at least I compel her to yield: 
    I can give her a lesson in crime.

1. The Lost Repartee
2. The Pessimist
3. Napoleon
4. ’Tis Folly to Be Wise
5. To an Amazon

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