The World’s Tragedy

THE GARDEN OF EROS. 2I First born ? — I’ll never have another, I’m Yaugh Waugh, Yaugh Waugh. Bow to Me, you lumpy lambkin ! Haw ! Haw ! Haw ! Now at last a wooden thing That will do my business for me. Uck ! Uck ! The morning’s carrion Bubbles in my paunch. I am belching dreadfully. What ? Uck ? Uck ? How strange ! For the windy vomit of me Shapes itself into a sorry And bedraggled pigeon. Birdie, have you got religion ? Yes, he bows most properly. Come then, let us take our counsel How to stop this sad behaviour, This gross impropriety, Irreligion — Uck ! it’s awful. Squat, then ! Pigeon, you’re the youngest : You speak first. THE DOVE Almighty father !