The Millennium.

WHEN Mr. Wells’ comet comes
And hits the earth, and from it comes
A gas that’s calculated from
All wicked thoughts to win you,
You’ll find with all celerity
An era of prosperity,
An up-to-date millennium will
Be started and continue.

You’ll find, in those delightful days,
When Mr. Bourchier puts on plays,
He’ll ask the critics all to go,
And give them supper after the show.
An actress, then although a star,
Will not be so particular;
But, when a rival makes a hit,
Will say, ‘Bravo! I’m glad of it.’
When packers pack, they will not can
Small samples of their fellow-man;
And, when we’ve foiled a foe’s attacks,
Keir-Hardie and Byles will wave Union Jacks,
In those brave, delightful days.
Those days of joy and mirth,
When Mr. Wells’ comet comes
Colliding with the earth.

In those magnificent days we’ll see
No warships made in Germany;
And the British lion will act like a lamb
When the Kaiser sends a telegram.
The lurid female novelist
On Society’s sins will not insist,
But for the future will be content
With other modes of advertisement.
And Presidents then will be more wary
Of playing tricks with the dictionary:
And subs. in the Guards will go to their beds
Without having jam smeared over their heads.
In those golden, far-off days
Of joy there’ll be no dearth,
When Mr. Wells’ comet comes
Colliding with the earth.