Women Workers.

THERE was a keen fighter from Datchet,
Who said, ‘Just touch me, and you’ll catch it!’
And Policeman X 3
Hurried home to his tea,
When she started to swipe with a hatchet.

A worker imported from ’Frisco
Said, ‘Girls, we shall manage it this go!’
And her captors, distraught
At the way that she fought,
Muttered, ‘Is this a woman or Zbysco?’

A Suffragette down from Devizes,
Just to show how the Force she despises,
Threw a constable flat,
And then jumped on his hat—
These things are unpleasant surprises.

There was a young lady from Ayr,
Who grabbed an M.P. by the hair;
When he yelled and took flight,
She just said, ‘Serve you right!
And I wish you were Asquith. So there!’

A truculent person from Thanet
Took a pin from her hat, and then ran it
With much vigour and vim
Into somebody’s limb;
Then coolly remarked, ‘You began it!’

An Amazon, hailing from Devon,
Wore thick football boots (number seven);
She kicked ten M.P.’s
On the shins and the knees—
When I left, she had made it eleven.