Classic Poem

[First published complete in the Edition of 1904 from a manuscript in the possession of Mr. Murray.]

M RS . W ILMOT sate scribbling a play,
Mr. Sotheby sate sweating behind her;
But what are all these to the Lay
Of Gally i. o. the Grinder?
Gally i. o. i. o., etc.

I bought me some books tother day,
And sent them down stairs to the binder;
But the Pastry Cook carried away
My Gally i. o. the Grinder.
Gally i. o. i. o., etc.

I wanted to kindle my taper,
And call'd to the Maid to remind her;
And what should she bring me for paper
But Gally i. o. the Grinder.
Gally i. o. i. o.

Among my researches for E ASE
I went where one's certain to find her:
The first thing by her throne that one sees
Is Gally i. o. the Grinder.
Gally i. o. i. o.

Away with old Homer the blind —
I'll show you a poet that's blinder:
You may see him whene'er you've a mind
In Gally i. o. the Grinder.
Gally i. o. i. o., etc.

Blindfold he runs groping for fame,
And hardly knows where he will find her:
She don't seem to take to the name
Of Gally i. o. the Grinder.
Gally i. o. i. o., etc.

Yet Critics have been very kind,
And Mamma and his friends have been kinder;
But the greatest of Glory's behind
For Gally i. o. the Grinder.
Gally i. o. i. o.