 | The Five Notions |  |
56
MYSTERY
The man who writes the Mudie-books
He wandered down the Strand:
He said, “It is a curious thing,
I've a shilling in my hand,
And the fictionists with not much more
Are a fairly numerous band.”
He wandered down the Strand:
He said, “It is a curious thing,
I've a shilling in my hand,
And the fictionists with not much more
Are a fairly numerous band.”
The man who writes the poetry
Shuffled down Cecil Court:
“If there be an art of life,” he said,
“'Tis the art of going short;
‘Follow the gleam,’ says Tennyson,
I do it, and I ort.”
Shuffled down Cecil Court:
“If there be an art of life,” he said,
“'Tis the art of going short;
‘Follow the gleam,’ says Tennyson,
I do it, and I ort.”
The man who writes the children's books
Tramp'd Henrietta Street:
His head was bare, his matted hair
Was silvery with sleet;
“If I could plant seventeen,” he said,
“I might make both ends meet.”
Tramp'd Henrietta Street:
57
Was silvery with sleet;
“If I could plant seventeen,” he said,
“I might make both ends meet.”
And the men who wrote philosophy,
Sermons, and half-a-crown
Books in belles-lettres, and so forth,
Went up and down the town
Crying aloud, “The Lord be thanked,
We have incomes of our own!”
Sermons, and half-a-crown
Books in belles-lettres, and so forth,
Went up and down the town
Crying aloud, “The Lord be thanked,
We have incomes of our own!”
Also, the publisher, at home
In his little shooting-box,
Observed unto his wife, “My love,
Ahead of us are rocks.
We'll be dragged, I'm sure, to the workhouse door
By my huge remainder stocks.”
In his little shooting-box,
Observed unto his wife, “My love,
Ahead of us are rocks.
We'll be dragged, I'm sure, to the workhouse door
By my huge remainder stocks.”
Likewise, the thrifty bookseller
Wept many a bitter drop:
“What is the blessed use?” he said,
“The slump declines to stop;
And if it holds for another month,
“I'll have to shut up shop.”
Wept many a bitter drop:
“What is the blessed use?” he said,
“The slump declines to stop;
58
“I'll have to shut up shop.”
Ah, sad and sad it is to see
Such worthy folk in woe;
To hear them moan, to hear them groan,
It hurts one's spirit so;
But what I want to know is this;
Where do the profits go?
Such worthy folk in woe;
To hear them moan, to hear them groan,
It hurts one's spirit so;
But what I want to know is this;
Where do the profits go?
| The Five Notions | |