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BALLADE OF A CHANGE OF ABODE.
(Dedicated to Mr. Wentworth Croke, Manager of the Lyric Opera House, Hammersmith.)
Romance has fled from Leicester Square
To dwell with simpler-hearted folk.
She flies in horror and despair
To seek suburban hearts of oak,
Her high-priest now is Wentworth Croke
Her ancient fanes are but a myth.
Come then (and bring your pipe to smoke)
Where she resides in Hammersmith.
To dwell with simpler-hearted folk.
She flies in horror and despair
To seek suburban hearts of oak,
Her high-priest now is Wentworth Croke
Her ancient fanes are but a myth.
Come then (and bring your pipe to smoke)
Where she resides in Hammersmith.
The Empire is the tawdry lair
Of juggling Jew and rancid joke,
Pink legs, dress-shirted fools astare
And humour ground beneath the yoke—
Come where Romance may still invoke
Her own congenial kin and kith
Come, apt for joy or sobs that choke,
Where she resides in Hammersmith.
Of juggling Jew and rancid joke,
Pink legs, dress-shirted fools astare
And humour ground beneath the yoke—
Come where Romance may still invoke
Her own congenial kin and kith
Come, apt for joy or sobs that choke,
Where she resides in Hammersmith.
For she has found true lovers there
Who shudder lest her spell be broke
Who shudder lest her spell be broke
