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SONGS OF A SAVOYARD.

Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
And who doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try;
And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist—
I don't think she'd be missed—I'm sure she'd not be missed!

And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The Judicial humorist—I've got him on the list!
All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life—
They'd none of 'em be missed—they'd none of 'em be missed.
And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind,
Such as—What-d'ye-call-him—Thing'em-Bob, and likewise—Never-mind,
And 'St—'st—'st—and What's-his-name, and also—You-know-who—
(The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you!)
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed—they'd none of 'em be missed!