A Raid On Romance—continued from page 51.
Flies open with a bang and—wow!
Out rush the prisoned inmates, pell and mell.
The long imprisoned homicidal thought
Leaps howling, with the timid little sneak
Who would the discount from the gas purloin—
A spate of old repressions wild and meek,
All milling madly down the corridor
To give expression to their captive flairs—
Some on the smash-and-grab and others worse,

All seeking freedom singly or in pairs.
A scrimmage of forgotten thoughts that leap
And take possession madly whilst we sleep,
That slug the warders of our conscious brain
And give us visions not entirely sane.
So having debunked the debunkers we close on the implring note:—
Don't take our wild and woolly dreams away,
The only outlet left the reeling brain!
If glumly sane we must be every day
At least at night we like to be insane.