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Neaves: Let us all be unhappy
LET US ALL BE UNHAPPY ON SUNDAY
We zealots, made up of stiff clay,
The sour-looking children of sorrow,
While not over jolly today,
Resolve to be wretched tomorrow.
We can't for a certainty tell
What mirth may molest us on Monday;
But, at least, to begin the week well,
Let us all be unhappy on Sunday.
What though a good precept we strain
Till hateful and hurtful we make it!
While though, in thus pulling the rein,
We may draw it so tight as to break it!
Abroad we forbid folks to roam,
For fear they get social or frisky;
But of course they can sit still at home,
And get dismally drunk upon whisky.
LORD NEAVES
STRICTURES ON THE ECONOMY OF
NATURE
A' things created have their uses,
This truth will bear nae doots,
As far as hauds to fleas and louses
An' ither bitin' brutes.
I ken the use o' crawlin' clocks
An' bugs upon you creepin';
But what's the use o' Barbara Fox?
By jingo, that's a deep ane!
GEORGE OUTRAM
140