He came with his harp from the mountains of Wales—
The spirit of poetry flowed in his blood;
Declining the engine that runs on the rails,
He tramped to the fortified City of Lud.
For him had the universe paused in its course,
For him had all progress been nipped in the bud;
He came as a bard, haughty, hoary, and hoarse,
To sing in the fortified City of Lud.
He sought for a mountain to sit on its brow,
And give off his lay after chewing the cud;
And he found, after searching, the mount that is now
“Snow Hill,” in the fortified City of Lud.
He called on the Britons who gathered to jeer
To list to a lay which would curdle their blood;
But a bobby came up, and said, “None o’ that here!”
Strange! in the fortified City of Lud.
He saw no policeman—such things could not be—
But the words of invective came forth in a flood
And so the policeman 092 C
Ran him in, in the fortified City of Lud.
With his harp he was placed in the dock the next day,
When the magistrate brought down his fist with a thud,
And told him ten shillings he’d have for to pay
For obstructing the road in the City of Lud.
The bard has gone back to his mountain in Wales
With his national vanity dragged through the mud,
And his faith rudely shaken in Taffy-told tales
Of the ancient and fortified City of Lud.