There's a special nook in the utmost Pit
Where Satan simmers the screaming souls,
With sharpened forks and a patent spit
And first-class devils and first-grade coals --
A cosy corner replete with pomp.
It's all reserved for that cow, the comp.
I write of "Envy, morose and dark,"
He makes it "'Enry," my heart to break;
I pen an "Ode to the Life-grief Stark" --
He types it "Hide of a Live Beef-steak,"
I sing "gay ruin in Circe's cup" --
"Bay rum" is the way that he sets it up!
Ho, brother-bards, who have writhed and chafed
'Neath the heavy hand of the Beast, mark well,
In beer-glad hours there hath been vouchsafed
To me sweet vision of seething Hell
With one addition to Dante's plan --
A special grid. for the lino. man!
First published in The Bulletin, 5 September 1912
