57517: A Rhymed Epistle To E. L. G.

'Heigh ho! Howe dothe old Tyme gallop.'
Bacon, Promus
Stanza I
My honoured cousin,
I'll not dwell
Longtime upon your verse (so well
Conceived) yet I am bound to tell
How after many a patient puff,
And later, many an angry snuff,
I got into a regular huff
That you had never written
To say how badly bitten
You were by your exam,
Or else how well you'd smitten
The Oxford-Senior Witan
By letting off your cram.
However ...;
So clever,
So well selected,
And so unexpected
Was this your happy rime
It makes amend
For lapse of time,
So here I end,
My chiding chime.
Canto II
... 'Is it physical To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours Of the dank morning?'
Cool-as a Cheeser, Bacon
I will no more than mention
The Keswick grand convention
Such speech would be amiss
In such a thing as this.
What I can best remember
Of Keswick was the Camp
Pitched in a field as damp
As gutters in December.
We woke at six or thereabouts;
We woke to find our inner clouts
As moist as Caustic Soda;
To find our tent, a bell-tent,
A very bell-jar, feculent
With CO2