Classic Poem

It is as well that you should know
The truth about that empty show,
That vast and histrionic ruse,
Which calls itself " the Daily News".

'Tis a dark truth, if truth be said.
We tried at every other trade
And we have found (with joy I sing)
That we were bad at everything.
When upon any work our wit
We tried, we made a mess of it.
When your Papa, exultant, sailed
A pirate, he distinctly failed.
When Wilson's dancing seemed to pall
Upon the Empire Music Hall,
When Spender found, and also Nash
That were not meant to haberdash,

When simple Bentley first began
To see he was no sandwich man,
When I myself perceived that I
Must work, or I should shortly die,
We all abandoned worldly strife,
And chose this simple mode of life.

One secret more: one person writes
All the whole paper all the nights.
He writes on war and war's redress,
On literature and ladies' dress.
Upon the commerce of Hong Kong
He is particularly strong.
His beard is long, his gestures free,
And his initials G. K. C.