The sword-edge and snake-bite, though hidden in blossoms, are hatred's old arms.

And what is your May Queen at heart, oh, true hearts, that succumb to her charms?

Dropped and deep in the blossoms, with eyes that flicker like fire,

The asp of Murder lies hid, which with poison shall feed your desire.

More than these things will she give, who looks fairer than all these things?

Not while her sceptre's a snake, and her orb the red horror that rings

Devilish, foul, round the world; while the hiss and the roar are the voice

Of this monstrous new Queen of the May, in whose rule you would bid us rejoice.

LITTLE JACK HORNER,

He sat in the corner,

And cried for his "Mummy!" and "Nuss!"

For, while eating his cake,

He had got by mistake

In a horrid piratical 'bus.

Now, some ten minutes back,

You'd have seen little JACK

From an Aërated Bread Shop emerge,

And proceed down the Strand—

Slice of cake in his hand—

In a crumb-covered suit of blue serge.

To be perfectly frank,

He was bound for the Bank,

For it chanced to be dividend day,

And he jumped on the 'bus,

After reasoning thus—

In his logical juvenile way:—

"Here's a 'bus passing by,

And I cannot see why

I should weary my infantile feet;

I've a copper to spare,

And the authorised fare

Is a penny to Liverpool Street."

As the 'bus cantered on,

Little cake-eating JOHN

In the corner contentedly sat,

And with that one and this

(Whether Mister or Miss)

Had a meteorological chat.

Came a bolt from the blue

When, collecting his due,

The conductor remarked, "Though I thank

That young cake-eating gent

For the penny he's sent,

It's a tuppenny ride to the Bank!"

"You're a pirate!" sobbed JACK,

"And your colours are black!"

But he heard—as he struggled to speak—

The conductor observe,

With remarkable verve,

That he didn't want none of his cheek!

With a want of regard,

He demanded JACK's card.

And young HORNER was summoned next day,

When the poor little lad

Lost the battle, and had

All the costs in addition to pay.

Now the Moral is this:

Little Master and Miss,

Whom I'm writing these verses to please;

If your tiny feet ache,

Then a 'bus you may take,

But be sure it's an L.G.O.C.'s!