He never drinks, but often "quaffs" ambrosial kinds of brews,
Which stimulate his mighty brain and brace his "giant thews";
He "sinks upon" an Eastern lounge, and elevates his shoes,
And "dashes off" a leader for the lcoal EVEN NOOSE.
He has some giddy orgies, but he never knocks about
With ordinary journalists who swallow pints of stout;
You always find him moving in the very highest sets,
The joyous, jim-jam journalist of lying novelettes.
The misleading novelette! Its perusal doth beget
In my bosom grave suspicions of the specious novelette.
He's got a "marble brow", of course, upon a life-long lease;
He's mostly half a London dude and half a god of Greece --
To read about his "thews of steel," all gathered in a lump,
It gives an unsuccessful scribe the biggest kind of hump.
He always grabs the girl that's got most beauty, brains and "rocks";
He takes her to the theatres in very low-cut frocks;
He has a truly gaudy time among the girls, you bet,
The petted, pampered pressman of the giddy novelette.
Oh! the giddy novelette with our virtue doth coquette --
It's really hardly proper to peruse the novelette.
He's always got a wondrous work -- a book! -- upon the stocks;
He reads each thrilling passage to the girl that's got the "rocks".
She prophesies his deathless fame and flops upon his heart --
Though brainy, she's quite usually a giddy kind of "tart".
And when his "book" at last comes out -- oh, then -- well, I should smile! --
The way they advertise his stuff it makes me green with bile.
They drag it from the linotype and sell it dripping wet --
A million copies! Rights reserved! -- Oh, d__n the novelette!
Oh, the ghastly novelette! Jumping wild, I own, I get
With the weird, abnormal genius of the awful novelette.
First published in The Bulletin, 12 July, 1906.
Note: The first part of this poem was published last week.
