What beasts these jungle men are,
You'd think they'd show much more care,
But after a row,
One might snatch up his bow,
And shoot his friend full of curare.
An Englishman's home is quite private,
But some guests inspire only hate,
If a French guest you chose,
Your cool you will lose,
While he's helping himself to your pate.
There once was a young man from Slough,
Whose rhymes were exceedingly rough,
The critics all said,
That his style was too staid,
But at least all his spelling was thorough.