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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408421" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Song of Ninian Melville</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sing the song of noisy Ninny - hang the Muses - spit it out!<br>(Tuneful Nine ye needn't help me - poet knows his way about!)<br>Sling me here a penny whistle - look alive, and let me slip<br>Into Ninny like a father - Ninny with the nimble lip.<br>Mister Melville, straight descendant from Professor Huxley's ape,<br>Started life a mute for daddy - pulling face, sporting crape;<br>But, alas, he didn't like it - lots of work and little pay.<br>Nature whispered, 'you're a windbag - play your cards another way.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mister Melville picked the hint up - pitched the coffin 'biz' to pot;<br>Paid his bills, or didn't pay them - doesn't matter now a jot!<br>Twigging how the bread was buttered, he commenced a 'waiting game':<br>Pulled the strings upon the quiet - no one 'tumbled' to his aim.<br>Paine, he purchased, Strauss, he borrowed - read a page or two of each;<br>Posed before his father's porkers - made to them his maiden speech.<br>Then he spluttered, 'Ninny has it! Nin will keep himself in clothes,<br>Like the gutter Tully, Bradlaugh, leading noodles by the nose!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In the fly-blown village pothouse, where a dribbling bag of beer, <br>Passes for a human being, Nin commenced his new career -<br>Talked about the 'Christian swindle' - cut the Bible into bits -<br>Shook his fist at Mark and Matthew - gave the twelve Apostles fits:<br>Slipped into the priests and parsons - hanunered at the British Court - -<br>Boozy boobies were astonished: lubbers of the Lambton sort!<br>Yards of ear were cocked to listen - yards of mouth began to shout<br>'Here's a cove as is long-headed - Ninny knows his way about.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mister MelviRe was delighted - game in hand was paying well:<br>Fools and coin don't hang together - Nin became a howling swell!<br>Took to 'stumping' on the Racecourse - cut the old debating club:<br>Wouldn't do for mighty Ninny now to mount a local tub!<br>Thornton's Column was his platform: here our orator began<br>Hitting at the yellow heathen - cracking up the 'working man' -<br>Spitting out at Immigration: roaring, like a worried bull,<br>At the lucre made from tallow - at the profit raised on wool.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Said our Ninny to our Ninny, 'I have not the slightest doubt<br>Soaping down the ''orny 'anded' is the safest 'bizness' out!<br>Little work for spanking wages - this is just the thing they like,<br>So I'll prop the eight hour swindle - be the boss in every strike.<br>In the end, I'll pull a pot off ~ what I'm at is bound to take:<br>Ninny sees a bit before him - Ninny's eyes are wide awake!<br>When the boobies make me member, Parkes, of course, will offer tip -<br>I will take the first fat billet - then my frouzy friends may rip.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So it came to pass that Melville, Mister Melville, I should say -<br>Dodged about with deputations, half a dozen times a day!<br>Started strikes and bossed the strikers - damned employers, every one,<br>On the Column - off the Column - in the shanty - in the sun!<br>'Down with masters - up with wages! keep the 'pigtail' out of this!'<br>This is what our Ninny shouted - game, you see, of hit or miss!<br>World, of course, is full of noodles - some who bray at Wallsend sent<br>Thing we know to be a windbag bouncing into Parliament!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Common story, this of Ninny! many fellows of his breed<br>Prowl about to bone the guinea, up to dirty tricks indeed;<br>Haven't now the time to tan them: but, by Jove, I'd like to tan<br>Back of that immense imposter that they call the 'working man'!<br>Drag upon our just employees - sponger on a worn-out wife<br>Boozing in alley pothouse every evening of his life.<br>Type he is of Nin's supporters: tot him up and tot him down,<br>He would back old Nick to-morrow for the sake of half a crown!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">House with high, august traditions - Chamber where the voice of Lowe,<br>And the lordly words of Wentworth sounded thirty years ago -<br>Hall familiar to our fathers, where, in days exalted, rang<br>All the tones of all the feeling which ennobled Bland and Lang -<br>We in ashes - we in sack cloth, sorrow for the insult cast<br>By a crowd of bitter boobies on the grandeur of the past!<br>Take again your penny whistle - boy, it is no good to me:<br>Last invention is a bladder with the title of M.P.!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Henry+Kendall">Henry Kendall</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=408421" data-title="The Song of Ninian Melville de Henry Kendall" data-description="Sing the song of noisy Ninny - hang the Muses - spit it out!
(Tuneful Nine ye needn't help me - poet knows his way about!)
Sling me here a penny whistle - look alive, and let me slip
Into Ninny like a father - Ninny with the nimble lip.
Mister Mel..."></div>
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