There is a splendid genius to whom I bow the knee;
His name upon the scroll of Fame is writ for all to see;
I nodded in a nervous way to him the other morn,
But --
He crushed me to the pavement with a look of sober scorn!
That proud and splendid genius I do not care to meet
When, chin in air and shoulders braced, he marches down the street;
Nor does it greatly cheer me in deep dejection sunk
That --
He sometimes condescends to borrow thrippence when he's drunk!
First published in The Bulletin, 8 August 1912
