Daily Chronicle, September 23, 1903
 

MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.
 

[According to a weekly paper, the nature of the “Hooligan” is soured because he does not live out in the wilds and fight wild beasts, and is thus compelled to get rid of his superfluous energy in other ways.]

Hooligan, your cheerless lot
 Very willingly I’d vary;
Yet, I fear me, I cannot
 Change Whitechapel to a prairie.
Buildings loom on every side.
 Streets and houses really are a
Bar to one who’d fain provide
 For your pleasure a Sahara.

Still, of course, I might at least
 Manage some day to supply an
Adequately fierce wild-beast,
 Say, a bear or, p’raps, a lion,
Or perchance to try your nerves
 Give you a man-eating tiger,
Hailing, as the bard observes,
 From the Congo or the Niger.

Other beasts of various sorts
 I will shortly try and bring you:
In your alleys, streets, and courts
 Snakes shall lie in wait to sting you;
Lurking silent on the leads,
 Leopards shall descend in showers
Daily on your bullet-heads.
 Wolves shall test your latent powers.

Now you lead a life of crime:
 Now your joy to maim and rob is;
Soon you’ll find you haven’t time
 To ill-treat the local bobbies.
And though life on such a plan
 May at first seem hardly pleasant,
It will change you to a Man
 (Which, you know, you aren’t at present).

P. G. W. 

 

An almost identical version of this poem had appeared two days earlier in the “By The Way” column of the Globe; since Wodehouse was salaried as editor of that column, his authorship was not credited with initials there. This is the earliest instance so far noticed of Wodehouse placing essentially the same item in two publications.
The bard is W. S. Gilbert, in his lyric “There is beauty in the bellow of the blast” from The Mikado.
 

Modern Improvements.
(According to a weekly paper the nature of the Hooligan
is soured because he does not live in the prairies, and get
rid of his superfluous energy by fighting wild beasts.)

Hooligan, your cheerless lot
 Very willingly I’d vary;
Still, I fear me; I cannot
 Change Whitechapel to a prairie.
Buildings loom on every side;
 Streets and houses really are a
Bar to one who’d fain provide
 For your pleasure a Sahara.

Still, of course, I might at least
 Manage some day to supply an
Adequately fierce wild beast—
 Say a bear, or p’raps a lion.
Or, perchance, to test your nerves,
 Give you a man-eating tiger,
Hailing, as the bard observes,
 “From the Congo or the Niger.”

Other beasts of various sorts
 I will shortly try and bring you;
In your alleys, streets, and courts
 Snakes shall lie in wait to sting you.
Lurking silent on the leads,
 Leopards shall descend in showers
Daily on your bullet heads;
 Wolves shall test your latent powers.

Now you lead a life of crime;
 Now your joy to maim and rob is:
Soon you’ll find you have no time
 To maltreat the local bobbies.
And though life on such a plan
 Seems to you perhaps unpleasant,
It will change you to a Man
 (Which, you know, you aren’t at present).