Poetry: King Mob!

King Mob as ever on mischief bent,
In a land of freedom pitched his tent,
In every capital round the world,
His blood-stained banner King Mob unfurl’d.
King Mob in civilization’s sight,
Proclaimed his gospel of dynamite
For one or other he laid his snare,
“Invincible” here and “Nihilist” there.

He came at last over land and sea,
To the home of peace and the island free.
A spirit of discontent he cast,
And tore the pages from a nation’s past;
He spread the terror of force and fist,
And flattered the impudent Atheist:
Having preached up crime as his soul thought best,
He was treated by law as an idle jest!

And a Magistrate ready with courteous whine,
Let his Majesty off with a simple fine.
Red-handed caught at the dynamite store,
The House of Commons began to roar!

Beware King Mob! For the time has come
For Britons to strike – and to strike right home.
The days are over for empty sneers
When houses tumble about our ears;
It’s a little too late to hold our breath,
With a mighty Metropolis mined with death.
But rebels will tremble and laughter cease
When the Hangman’s knot is the Bond of Peace!

-From ‘Punch’, April 14th, 1883

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