A MESSAGE FROM BROADMOOR

Altho’ my brain is sound and well,

An’ mentally I've nothing wrong,

They've locked me in a padded cell,

An’ watches me the‘ ole day long;

‘ Ow did I get in such a fix?

‘ Twas all along o’ politics.

I'd studied Joe's Protection plan,

An’ thought I'd see what I could do

To benefit my fellow-man

By practisin’‘ is‘ opeful view

That Exports is the all in all,

And Himports should be nil — or small.

So, when I stayed with Uncle Bill

( My visit ai n't improved‘ is manners ),

I managed, when I left, to fill

My pockets with‘ is best‘ Avannahs;

The cigarettes I left be'ind

Was quite the cheapest I could find.

Yet Uncle Bill‘ e could n't see

That since‘ is Exports far exceeded

‘ Is Himports — thanks, o’ course, to me —

That was exactly what he needed

To make‘ im prosperous again;

‘ E merely said I was insane!

‘ E could n't understand, wot's more,

(‘ E was a Cobdenite, an’ still is ),

Why, when I traded at the door

‘ Is hovercoat for Weary Willie's,

‘ E, not the tramp,‘ ad been the gainer;

And yet — could anythink be plainer?

One day a foreign merchant fleet

Was anchored orf a British pier;

The cargo, mostly Russian wheat,

Designed for himportation‘ ere;

True to my principles, that night

I blew it up with dynamite.

The jury was a set o’ twelve

Old fossils o’ the Asquith school;

The judge was one they ought to shelve;

My counsel was a bloomin’ fool;

‘ E talked o’ my‘ disordered brain,’

An’ never mentioned Chamberlain!

So now they've sent me to a spot

Congenial to my fiscal notions,

Which, as I need n't say, is not

The same as Devonsheer's or Goschen's.

But I'm not mad, I must insist:

I'm merely a Protectionist!