That swashbuckler H-RC-RT now, swaggering there--why,
The big burly Bobadil's acting insanely.
I _do_ like to draw him. These ramparts are mine,
But because we're old comrades he cheeks me. "Woa, EMMA!"
As cads used to shout. I extremely incline
To tickle him up with--a two-horned Dilemma!
"Well, WILLIAM, what cheer?" He is struggling out there
With a--Snark; 'tis a Boojum which shortly may vanish.
Like _Frankenstein's_, his is a Monster, I fear,
He would--did he dare--be delighted to banish.
That big "Home-Rule" Bogey, my Bobadil, seems
A "handful" with which you are destined to struggle,
Which darkens your days as it haunts all your dreams;
Which you cannot get rid of by force or by juggle.
_You've got him, you say?_ Well, then, bring him along!
Ha! ha! Says _"he can't!"_ That's exceedingly funny!
It _is_ very hard when your "captive"'s so strong,
He won't do your bidding for love or for money.
Like SAMSON he leads his DELILAH a dance.
Like PAT'S prisoner--all know the old Irish story--
He won't give his captor a ghost of a chance.
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