POEMS FOR THE PUSHFUL.

Daily Chronicle, January 27, 1904
 

[It is said that lyrical advertisements will soon be even more popular than they are now. The bard, anxious to be up to date, has turned out a few specimen efforts.]

How sweet it is to view, ah me!
 Two men so subtly linked together,
From strife so beautifully free
 As Messrs. Moggs and Mereweather.
Two souls with but a single aim!
 To them no competition matters:
Zounds! you might conjure with the name
 Of Moggs and Mereweather, hatters.

Often has Edwin disagreed
 With Angelina, I’ve heard tell,
Upon the subject of his weed:
 She says, “She doesn’t like the smell.”
He earns the blessings of his bride,
 His peace no sort of wrangle mars,
Who casts all other brands aside,
 And smokes “Ushouldtria” cigars.

Boots! Boots! Boots! Boots!
 Buy ’em from De Jones and Co,
Boots! Boots! Boots! Boots!
 Every sort of size in stock.
Boots! Boots! Boots! Boots!
 Give our firm a trial once,
 And you’ll come here evermore.
If you’ve got corns, our firm allows for ’em.
Liberal discount granted you for ready cash,
Boots! Boots! Boots! Boots! Buy ’em from De Jones and Co,
 And you’ll come here evermore.

You ask me where is Fancy bread,
 What shop most deftly bakes it,
Where customers on cake are fed,
 The same as mother makes it.
Go seek that Heaven of your dreams
At Gorgbury, Pigglethwaite, and Creme’s.

P. G. W. 

 


 

“Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart or in the head?”
  —Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice