Already certain pessimists in our midst are affecting to envision a slump of dull and joyless days that, according to them, must follow in the reaction from the Centenary celebrations.
Hi, Cockalorum! But - Misery me! What is the aftermath going to be? With joy at its zenith and sorrow its least, I am the skeleton come to the feast. Now the centenary swells over all, I am the writing aglow on the wall: Eat, drink and make merry. Eat, drink and make merry. Hip, hip. Cockahoop! And alack-a-day derry! I am the spoil-sport a-gnawing his nails, Boding disaster when merriment fails. Dance, little lady; oh, dance while you may, Shout ye, good gentlemen. Merryís the day! Sorrow is looming. Hear the far booming. The ghouls and the ghosts are a-groaning and glooming. Today for the dancing, the love and the laughter, But what of the morning after? Aye! Happy-go-lucky! But - Misery me. What is the aftermath going to be?
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