The Odd Vote

The debate proceeded in a thin House. Some of the members were at the Lord Mayor’s Ball from which they were summoned for the Division, which resulted in a majority of one vote in favor of the Ministry 25 votes to 24.

Oh, she was fair! Man! She was fair!
I smelt the perfume of her hair,
I held her gently in my arms
And noted all her female charm.
What time we trod the mazy dance,
I thought, may-hap, there’d be a
chance.

Perhaps, to kiss her later on;
But frail, ah frail!
Of no avail
Are hopes that men depend upon.

’Twas at the Lordly Mayoral ball
I had an “invite” there; and all
The youths and beauty of the town—
Flappers, and men of high renown
Were there to frolic and make gay,
I’d had a rather busy day.
“But now,” said I, “I shall relax”
(Ah, man! Her hair was like spun
flax!)

I am, you know, a great M.P.
In by a small majority,
Won in a base and devious way—
(However, we must earn our pay.)
But can we not sometime go gay?
I had been sitting in the House
All day; and harked to Members
rouse
And talk of silly, mundane things
Such as the day’s procedure brings,
And then I pressed and saw her
there
(Ah, man! The perfume of her hair!)

I wish that I could make a speech
Just to describe that perfect peach,
Her hair
Was fair;
Her eyes were brown;
And, just as we had settled down
To dancing, lo, the herald came
To say the legislature game
Was all fuaned up. “Hey! Get yer
coat!”
He yelled. “They’re dyin’ fer yer
vote!”

My vote! My vote was in her hair
And yet I left her standing there
Rushed to the House, and just got in
To save a Premier from his sin.
It was a most heroic act.
(But—she WAS fair, and that’s a
fact.)

My vote just saved the Government,
And people that I represent
Applaud me; for they say my nerve
And brains are more than they deserve.
They tell me that I made a hit
When I rushed in and mangled it—
That vote—it saved the Government,
And yet, I sit here and repent.

Oh, she was fair! Man! She was fair!
Her eyes! Her face! Her perfumed
hair!

I held her gently in my arms—
Then came excursions and alarms
And yet, the common people say
That members never earn their
pay.
But, anyhow, I’m still alive—
’Twas twenty-four to twenty-five.
We won! What does the public care?
(But, ah, the perfume of her hair!)