... CONDUCTOR My rival Blank with simple-minded zest Presents Mozart, Beethoven and the rest, But I consign such notions to the shelf. And pertinaciously present myself. KEYBOARD WONDER With soulless competence, in chord and run, In counterpoint however thickly spun, His fingers function. Would that he had none CRITIC Repeat myself But am I then to blame Who write about the folk who do the same A ...

... The fairest flower of chivalry Is withered irretrievably, So maiden, all forlorn, must dry Disfiguring teardrops from her eye. If heart for knight on charger yearns To compromise at last she learns Assessing prospects 'gainst her need. She sensibly foregoes the steed. Jean Stanger ...

... Lord Siskin, Susan Farleigh's father, Adored to ride to hounds or rather, Seated in comfort in his car, He 'd watch the hunting from afar He knew too well (from friends, of course) That he looked dreadful on a horse Having, with title, lands complete, Inherited the family seat. D. B. Gurrey ...

... PARLIAMENTARY BORE When Dash became a lord, his party fought A by-election which availed it naught. No matter, cried the caucus. Glory be The seat has gone and so, thank God, has he GOOD PARTY MAN De Bletherby, the Whip's Delight, Sees everything in black and white. His stance is firm, his visage grim, No pastel shades exist for him. His simple Whiteness can't abide The Blackness of the other ...

... With our applied psychiatry A broken heart need never be Abruptly lethal now its role Is merely to expose the soul For stage dissection. Oft we crave A whiff of commonsense to save That tediously-contended day But then, of course, there 'd be no play. Jean Stanger AAA ...

... A dream of sweet oblivion ends As science shamelessly extends Huge hungry hands to gather in Another harmful human sin. While probing pundits don't debar Snuff, shag, cheroot or strong cigar As noxious weed, the race inhales In cigarettes its coffin-nails, They say and doubtless find it jolly To spike us, squirming, on our folly. Jean Stanger ...

... In season of conjecture when The minor prophet bleats again When every club's most rabid bore Claims kinship with the Chancellor When fleetingly the tribe forswears Pools, to consider State affairs When, recreant to the rites of spring, The spirit will not soar and sing But, doleful, droops in drab debate On profits tax or interest rate It needs but cuckoo to begin And Budget is yeomen in. ...

... White wine to Baron Bronx, alas, Was poison not a single glass Could he imbibe his wife, though nice, Would not touch red at any price, And sitting there with rising gorge Would watch him quaff a Nuits St. Georges, Then, with the fish, he 'd look away While she drank deep of Montrachet. Small wonder that the sons they bred, Allergic to both white and red, Soon found that they could only drink ...

... A garden is a lovesome plot, Or ought to be, but yours is not. You harass it. I freely own I cannot leave a plant alone. I love to potter. That is why Your garden hurts the mind and eye. It lacks repose, it is not neat, Or ever decently complete. Pray emulate the plants you guard And do not toil and spin so hard. Thus gardens thrive. 14 A thousand pardons, But I like gardening, not gardens. ...

... If given the chance, any schoolboy Would sail for the U.S. of A., Where the parents hold back for the children And believe they should have their own way, Where they don't lay their hands on the male child Any more than we do on a girl, And there 's many a carefree Elmer But rarely a belted Earl. Prendergast ...

... GASTRO- LYRIC By Justin Richardson garlic s iasle is briefest pleasure Sal in hastef repent at leisure, ffjarlic s li(ce the poor, liice sorrow cffere to-clap, and here to-morrow. GARLIC ...

... COURT PAINTER My secret, sir Assuredly not Art, Or even Craft, but just that I impart A touch of Pompadour to Mrs. Gough, And give Smith-Jones an air of Romanoff. EN PLE1N AIR I squat on pavements daubing this and that While folk drop coppers in my little hat. How happily we hear as they pass by That dinky dinky dink, my little hat and I EPITAPH None that ever rode in hearse Drew so ill or ...