Strong men "out of work," weak women as "out of heart," Factory gates unopened, and Workhouse gates fast shut. Traffic hampered, arrested, piled trains unable to start. Famine in homes and hearths, trade dead-lock and market-glut! The coal lies there in the mine, untouched of hammer and pick, While yon pale widow-woman must haggle in vain for enough To charge her tiny grate! Faith! the heart that turns not sick Is tough!
Tough, my lords of Capital! Hard as the coal-seam black Your Cyclops-drudges dig at--when you will allow them to dig. Say, on your conscience now, _is_ your purse so slender and slack That you _cannot_ bend a little to those who have made you big? The wealth the sunlight stored men hew for you in the dark, From the black and poisonous caverns which once were forests free, 'Tis yours--till certain questions are asked and answered! Hark To me!
Men will not _always_ stand, while Monopoly wages war, Mute, unquestioning, suffering. Greed, and starvation wage, The crowd of want-urged captives shackled to Mammon's car, Show not the welcomest things to this curious, questioning age. To-day the appeal's to Pity. To-morrow--well, never mind!-- Look on the sorrowful picture that _Punch_ commends to your view! Man many a time has found there is wisdom in being kind. Will _you_?
And you poor thralls of the pit, remember that you and yours Are not sole sufferers now from this fratricidal strife. Yes, a starving garrison--_fights_; sharp ills demand sharp cures; But when in your stubborn wrath you swear it is "war to the knife," Remember that knife's at the throat of others than those who'd gain By a victory for you in this fiercest of labour fights. And these, too, who _must_ lose, yet have--shall they not maintain?-- _Their_ rights!
[Illustration: "AND _SHE_ OUGHT TO KNOW!"
"THAT'S SUPPOSED TO BE A PORTOGRAPH OF LADY SOLSBURY. BUT, BLESS YER, IT AIN'T LIKE HER A BIT IN PRIVATE!"]
Oh! other centuries have had their blades, their bucks, their dandies, Who had redeeming qualities, but what no man can stand is The up-to-date variety, that miserable nonny, The self-conceited jackanapes who calls himself a "Johnny." He hasn't got the brawn or brains to go in for excesses, His faults are feeble--like himself,--he dawdles, dines, and dresses, His words, his hair, his silly speech to sheer negation clippin', And when he wants to praise a thing, his only word is "Rippin'."