When PHARAOH chased the chosen Jew, and perished in the sea,
Things seemed to hint at failure in the PHARAOH policy.
For 'tis written that the Opposition leader had his way;
But we've never been enlightened on what PHARAOH had to say.
But probably before the wave came over him he swore:
'This is the naval policy I've always battled for!'
And continued to enlarge upon his policy's success,
Till a mouthful of the salt Red Sea cut short his brief address.
For there's nothing like a cool, calm cheek;
And there's wisdom in a big bold bluff.
If you find you've made a blunder,
And your policy goes under,
You've a chance if you can bellow loud enough.
That's the time you need a brass-bound cheek;
When your theory to smithereens is blown,
Seize the other fellow's notion
In the subsequent commotion
And declare, by all the gods, it is your own.
When BRUTUS punctured CAESAR in his quaint old Pagan way,
A lot of folk were almost sure that BRUTUS won the day.
'Twas the popular opinion, and was backed by solid facts;
But we are not told what CAESAR thought about these ancient acts.
For it was not 'Et tu BRUTE' that he murmured as he fell,
But 'I'm charmed to see my policy is carried out so well.'
And if we are allowed to make a sporting sort of guess,
He's skiting still in Hades of that policy's success.
For there's nothing like a hard-boiled cheek;
And there's virtue in assurance when its strong;
In claiming a11 the credit,
And declaring that you said it
Would occur just as it happened all along.
No, there's nothing like a steel-shod cheek;
And there's something in a tall, tough skite
Should it be the white you back,
And the winner turn out black,
Buck up, and say you meant a blackish white.
0, ye proud and haughty Britons, quondam rulers of the waves,
Have you ever once reflected why it is ye are not slaves?
Nay, the glorious foundation Britain's freedom stands upon
Is the firm and fearless policy of glorious King JOHN!
For when the Barons waited on him, asking him to sign
The grand old Magna Charta, did he hesitate and whine?
No! Spake that grand old monarch, with a rather bitter smile:-
'This is the policy I've advocated all the while!'
Ay, there's nothing like a cast-iron cheek,
When you 'fuse' to give away a doubtful gift,
Saying, 'This is what we'll give
This or - some alternative.'
Lie low and watch which way the cat will shift.
Just wait and watch and polish up your cheek;
And when the Dreadnought hurling back is sent
With the curt advice to spend it
On yourself - well, let that end it;
And remark: 'Precisely. That is what we meant.'
- 65 Views
Find a translation for this poem in other languages:
Select another language:
- - Select -
- 简体中文 (Chinese - Simplified)
- 繁體中文 (Chinese - Traditional)
- Español (Spanish)
- Esperanto (Esperanto)
- 日本語 (Japanese)
- Português (Portuguese)
- Deutsch (German)
- العربية (Arabic)
- Français (French)
- Русский (Russian)
- ಕನ್ನಡ (Kannada)
- 한국어 (Korean)
- עברית (Hebrew)
- Український (Ukrainian)
- اردو (Urdu)
- Magyar (Hungarian)
- मानक हिन्दी (Hindi)
- Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Italiano (Italian)
- தமிழ் (Tamil)
- Türkçe (Turkish)
- తెలుగు (Telugu)
- ภาษาไทย (Thai)
- Tiếng Việt (Vietnamese)
- Čeština (Czech)
- Polski (Polish)
- Bahasa Indonesia (Indonesian)
- Românește (Romanian)
- Nederlands (Dutch)
- Ελληνικά (Greek)
- Latinum (Latin)
- Svenska (Swedish)
- Dansk (Danish)
- Suomi (Finnish)
- فارسی (Persian)
- ייִדיש (Yiddish)
- հայերեն (Armenian)
- Norsk (Norwegian)
- English (English)