How he springs
And leaps to the wild whillaloo!
You pipe and he dances this time,
Russian Bear!
The Bear and his Leader change places.
Quicker and quicker he, Steps; Miss TERPSICHORE
Scarce could show prettier paces.
_Houp la!_
_Atta Troll_ could not rival his graces.
He who pays for the Pipe calls the tune--
Russian Bear!
Pooh! _that_ old saw's quite obsolete.
Just look at that stocking! What matters men's mocking?
_He_'ll pay, but your tune is so sweet--
Rat-tat-too!--
That it keeps him at work hands and feet!
How long? That remains to be seen,
Russian Bear;
But in spite of political spleen,
And Treaties and Fables, You _have_ turned the tables.
Such sight is not frequently seen.
You've slipped yourself out of your chains,
Russian Bear;
'Till hardly a shackle remains
In Black Sea or Bosphorus. This may mean loss for us,
Bruin cares not whilst he gains.
Treaties and protocols irk,
Russian Bear;
And therefore are matters to shirk.
Berlin and Paris, No longer must harass
This true friend of France--and the Turk.
Hrumph! hrumph!
Well, well, we shall see how 'twill work!
* * * * *
"HANGING THEOLOGY."--Readers of the _Times_ have been for some time
in a state of suspense--most appropriately--as to the result of the
correspondence carried on by Lord GRIMTHORPE & Co.
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