For laundrywork he has a knack; He takes in shirts and makes them blue; When he omits to send them back He takes his customers in too.

He must be ranked in the 'elite'

Of those whose hobby is deceit.

For ladies 'tis the fashion here To pinch their feet and make them small, Which, to the civilised idea, Is not a proper thing at all.

Our modern Western woman's taste In pinching leans towards the waist.

The Chinese Empire is the field Where foreign missionaries go; A poor result their labours yield, And they have little fruit to show; For, if you would convert Wun Lung, You have to catch him very young.

The Chinaman has got a creed And a religion of his own, And would be much obliged indeed If you could leave his soul alone; And he prefers, which may seem odd, His own to other people's G.o.d.

Yet still the missionary tries To point him out his wickedness, Until the badgered natives rise,-- And there's one missionary less!

Then foreign Pow'rs step in, you see, And ask for an indemnity.

_MORAL_

Adhere to facts, avoid romance, And you a clergyman may be; To lie is wrong, except perchance In matters of Diplomacy.

And, when you start out to convert, Make certain that you don't get hurt!

VIII

FRANCE

The natives here remark 'Mon Dieu!'

'Que voulez-vous?' 'Comment ca va?'

'Sapristi! Par exemple! Un peu!'

'Tiens donc! Mais qu'est-ce que c'est que ca?'

They shave one portion of their dogs, And live exclusively on frogs.

They get excited very quick, And crowds will gather before long If you should stand and wave your stick And shout, 'a bas le Presidong!'

Still more amusing would it be To say, 'Conspuez la Patrie!'

The French are so polite, you know, They take their hats off very well, And, should they tread upon your toe, Remark, 'Pardon, Mademoiselle!'

And you would gladly bear the pain To see them make that bow again.

Their ladies too have got a way Which even curates can't resist; 'Twould make an Alderman feel gay Or soothe a yellow journalist; And then the things they say are so Extremely--well, in fact,--you know!

_MORAL_

The closest scrutiny can find No morals here of any kind.

IX

GERMANY

The German is a stolid soul, And finds best suited to his taste A pipe with an enormous bowl, A fraulein with an ample waist; He loves his beer, his Kaiser, and (Donner und blitz!) his Fatherland!

He's perfectly contented if He listens in the Op'ra-house To Wagner's well-concealed 'motif,'

Or waltzes of the nimble Strauss; And all discordant bands he sends Abroad, to soothe his foreign friends.

When he is glad at anything He cheers like a dyspeptic goat, 'Hoch! hoch!' You'd think him suffering From some affection of the throat.

A disagreeable noise, 'tis true, But pleases him and don't hurt you!

_MORAL_

A gla.s.s of lager underneath the bough, A long 'churchwarden' and an ample 'frau'

Beside me sitting in a Biergarten, Ach! Biergarten were paradise enow!

X

HOLLAND

This country is extremely flat, Just like your father's head, and were It not for d.y.k.es and things like that There would not be much country there, For, if these banks should broken be, What now is land would soon be sea.

So, any child who glory seeks, And in a d.y.k.e observes a hole, Must hold his finger there for weeks, And keep the water from its goal, Until the local plumbers come, Or other persons who can plumb.

The Hollanders have somehow got The name of Dutch (why, goodness knows!), But Mrs. Hollander is not A 'd.u.c.h.ess' as you might suppose; Mynheer Von Vanderpump is much More used to style her his 'Old Dutch.'

Their cities' names are somewhat odd, But much in vogue with golfing men Who miss a 'put' or slice a sod, (Whose thoughts I would not dare to pen), 'Oh, Rotterdam!' they can exclaim, And blamelessly resume the game.

The Dutchman's dress is very neat; He minds his little flock of goats In cotton blouse, and on his feet He dons a pair of wooden boats.

(He evidently does not trust Those d.y.k.es I mentioned not to bust).

He has the reputation too Of being what is known as 'slim,'

Which merely means he does to you What you had hoped to do to him; He has a business head, that's all, And takes some beating, does Oom Paul.

_MORAL_

Avoid a country where the sea May any day drop in to tea, Rememb'ring that, at golf, one touch Of bunker makes the whole world Dutch!

XI

ICELAND

The climate is intensely cold; Wild curates would not drag me there; Not tho' they brought great bags of gold, And piled them underneath my chair.

If twenty bishops bade me go, I should decidedly say, 'No!'

_MORAL_

If ev'ry man has got his price, As generally is agreed, You will, by taking my advice, Let yours be very large indeed.