Young England The times still 'grow to something strange'; We rap and turn the tables; We fire our guns at awful range; We lay Atlantic cables; We bore the hills, we bridge the seas-- To me 'tis better far To sit before my fire at ease, And smoke a mild cigar. We start gigantic bubble schemes,-- Whoever _can_ invent 'em!-- How splendid the prospectus seems, With int'rest cent. per centum His shares the holder, startled, sees At eighty below par: I dawdle to my club at ease, And light a mild cigar. We pickle peas, we lock up sound, We bottle electricity; We run our railways underground, Our trams above in this city We fly balloons in calm or breeze, And tumble from the car; I wander down Pall Mall at ease, And smoke a mild cigar. Some strive to get a post or place, Or entree to society; Or after wealth or pleasure race, Or any notoriety; Or snatch at titles or degrees, At ribbon, cross, or star: I elevate my limbs at ease, And smoke a mild cigar. Some people strive for manhood right With riots or orations; For anti-vaccination fight, Or temperance demonstrations: I gently smile at things like these, And, 'mid the clash and jar, I sit in my arm-chair at ease, And smoke a mild cigar. They say young ladies all demand A smart barouche and pair, Two flunkies at the door to stand, A mansion in May Fair: I can't afford such things as these, I hold it safer far To sip my claret at my ease, And smoke a mild cigar. It may be proper one should take One's place in the creation; It may be very right to make A choice of some vocation; With such remarks one quite agrees, So sensible they are: I much prefer to take my ease, And smoke a mild cigar. They say our morals are so so, Religion still more hollow; And where the upper classes go, The lower always follow; That honour lost with grace and ease Your fortunes will not mar: That's not so well; but, if you please, We'll light a fresh cigar. Rank heresy is fresh and green, E'en womenkind have caught it; They say the Bible doesn't mean What people always thought it; That miracles are what you please, Or nature's order mar: I read the last review at ease, And smoke a mild cigar. Some folks who make a fearful fuss, In eighteen ninety-seven, Say, heaven will either come to us, Or we shall go to heaven; They settle it just as they please; But, though it mayn't be far, At any rate there's time with ease To light a fresh cigar. It may be there is something true; It may be one might find it; It may be, if one looked life through, That something lies behind it; It may be, p'raps, for aught one sees, The things that may be, are: I'm growing serious--if you please We'll light a fresh cigar. |
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