The Spike: or, Victoria College Review Capping Carnival 1921
(Air—Yo-ho, Little Girl!)
Wilde, Tresizes, Wilson and Bracken.
I've wandered the whole world over twice,
And I've never been cheeked before,
Though I've gambled with fate and loaded dice,
And mastered the slippery floor.
I've lived lean in Limehouae and out and about.
And never encountered a frown,
Though I've lived in an attic in artistic style.
And eluded the landlord's every wile,
Till I came to this miserable town.
Till he came to this miserable town.
Here's a bally quandary.
For 'tis plain as plain can be,
That if Oscar's right,
Then our Theo's wrong.
Let us have a fight.
Is it dance or song?
Fist it out, my hearties,
And tight as they fought of old,
And prove who is true,
Our little boy blue,
Or the lad with the brow of gold.
I'm the author of many word perfect books,
And the Father of great Salome,
And though I would buck at Maud Allen gadzooks,
Don't think I'm a metronome;
No one who engaged me in argument
But was stoushed with an epigram.
The "Importance of Being Earnest's" fine,
And "Dorian Gray" is mine, all mine,
So for him I don't care a damn.
For him he cares not a damn.
Here's a beastly mystery,
For its quite, quite plain to see
That if Oscar's It,
Then our Theo's not.
But my young Tom-tit,
All this talk is rot.
Fight it out my hearties,
There's nought to compare with a fight,
And we'll see who is the dub.
Terpsichore's cub Or the Moon of my Delight.