Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, G. W. L. T., by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

G. W. L. T., by                    
First Line: When the unionist party was pining
Last Line: Will do just as well
Subject(s): Oxford University;politics; Politicians;political Poetry


After seeing in the Daily Papers the notices of his debate with Mr. Balfour. (With apologies to
C. L. G.)

WHEN the Unionist Party was pining
For the lack of a statesmanlike lead,
And Austen and Wyndham were dining
At the annual Tariffite feed,
While the Party desisted from fighting
Their ancient and traitorous foes
(For all were too occupied smiting
Their friends on the nose),

At the height of this journalist crisis,
While we wondered if Bonar would go,
There uprose from the banks of the Isis
The man who could manage the show.
His appearance was not reassuring,
Men dreaded his truculent gaze,
But his voice was distinctly alluring,
And so were his ways.

Brought up on the choicest of stories
Of Dizzy and Canning and Pitt,
With the views of the stoutest of Tories
He combined a more popular wit.
On the platform he bore all before him,
But he chiefly excelled in debate,
And no one was able to floor him
On matters of State.

The Canning combined to extol him,
And noted his sayings with awe;
The Clubs were not slow to enrol him
And wished they had done so before.
What Wykeham and Wolsey had started
The Union tried to complete,
And even the gallery smarted
To sit at his feet.

We have watched the despatch-boxes quiver
'Neath the thunderous blows of his palm,
While recalcitrant Radicals shiver
At the menacing wave of his arm.
Each opponent he noisily mangled,
The fame of his adjectives spread,
And while Tories at Westminster wrangled
We worshipped our head.

So he soars above those who once knew him,
While Radicals flee from his face,
But Tadpole and Taper pursue him,
And candidates join in the chase.
The Mirror displayed to its readers
His features with those of the great,
And he met all our prominent leaders
In public debate.

Oh, never was prophecy truer!
Not a Tory but kneels at his shrine,
And more than one prosperous brewer
Has anxiously asked him to dine.
But ministers totter and tremble
At the thought of that terrible day
When their lot will too closely resemble
The lot of his prey.

Then Winston will make for Manilla
Aboard of the Admiralty yacht,
Lloyd George will retire to his Villa
And Ure will commune with the Scot.
John Burns will be found in the fountains
Of a certain notorious square,
And Mond will return to his mountains
(I will not say where).

Then Pease will become a professor,
McKenna will enter the Church,
And Asquith will start for Odessa
While the Party is left in the lurch.
But Maxse will dance a mazurka
And Strachey will stand on his head,
And Garvin will leap like a Ghurka
Till they put him to bed.

Then come, let us pour a libation
To the shades of Disraeli and Peel!
For at last this demoralized nation
The hand of a leader shall feel.
In the House we can boast of no filbert
(The "Koshy man's" word for a "swell")
But the Union's view is that Gilbert
Will do just as well.





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