A Ballade of an Anti-Puritan
They spoke of Progress spiring round,
Of Light and Mrs. Humphry Ward—
It is not true to say I frowned,
Or ran about the room and roared;
I might have simply sat and snored—
I rose politely in the club
And said, “I feel a little bored;
Will someone take me to a pub?”
The new world’s wisest did surround
Me; and it pains me to record
I did not think their views profound,
Or their conclusions well assured;
The simple life I can’t afford,
Besides, I do not like the grub—
I wait a mash and sausage, “scored”—
Will someone take me to a pub?
I know where Men can still be found,
Anger and clamorous accord,
And virtues growing from the ground,
And fellowship of beer and board,
And song, that is a sturdy cord.
And hope, that is a hardy shrub,
And goodness, that is God’s last word—
Will someone take me to a pub?
ENVOI
Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub—Is
that the last of them—O Lord!
Will someone take me to a pub?