Classic Poem

My name is John Majuba-Jink,
I live down Tooting way;
My house is of a quiet pink,
Except on Empire Day.

My cousin Sarah seeks the Lord,
And likes to save a sinner:
We have her, and are rather bored,
On Boxing Day to dinner.

I keep a wife in tisty style
Also a motor-cycle
And I have read the Dily Mile
On J. McCybe on Hickel.

Also “The Martyrdom of Man”
By Mr Winwood Reade;
So cannot bow, like Sarah can,
My 'ead to any creed.

But in the works of daring thought
Of which I read reviews
I learn how Evolution wrought
All varied things to use.

How systems rugged and unripe,
And saints insane but fervent,
Produced at last the highest type;
Your most obedient servant.

In horns and talons, fins and wings,
In monsters of the sea
In shaggy shapeless forest things,
Were lovely hints of me.

St John that saw heaven's curtain-hems,
Like an old garment riven;
Saw Upper Tooting, bright with gems
Descending out of heaven.

And warring Alfred paused to drink
One wine-cup in his dearth;
And muttered “John Majuba Jink
Shall yet appear on earth.”

And Aristotle's gleams of thought,
And Homer's hints of song,
Have found the goal they blindly sought
And now we shan't be long.