Better Late than Never

In Federal political circles it is antici- pated that the measure to reduce Par- liamentary allowance from £1000 to £800 a year will be one of the last of the official acts of the session.

Our consciences are hurting, friends—
    They hurt like anything
To think of all the screw we draw,
    And, yet, we cannot bring
Ourselves to cut the figure down,
    Because we know you'd say,
"Poor fellows, do not rush the thing,
    Leave it till the last day."

We're quite aware that you're aware
    We fully earn our screw;
And twenty pounds a week's not much
    For all the work we do.
Yet are we keen to cut it down
    A little just to show
That we are all true patriots—
    When after votes, you know.

The laborer is worth his hire—
    As someone said before—
But, when our job's in jeopardy
    We scorn the useful score.
And gladly will we cut it down,
    But not till that last day;
And when we do we look for you
    To give one loud "Hurray!"

This is the game of politics;
    For, had we not the front
To raise our screw a while ago
    We could not do this stunt
Of cutting them a little bit
    Now that elections loom,
Lest, deeming us acquisitive,
    Electors seal our doom.

But, should our little scheme come off,
    And should you send us back
As honest and right-thinking men
    Who sacrificed our whack,
If we should put screws up again—
    Well, some few folk might bark;
Still, three years is a long, long time.
    (But keep this matter dark).