Paths of Progress

Book-learnin', eh!  Culcher?  Well, I dunno.
   I have no doubt it's all right in its place --
A bit of frill for them wot 'as the dough;
   But where's it git yeh to, in any case?
I ain't no schollard; all me culchured air
   'As been picked up thro' nosin' round a bit.
Snoopin', an' list'nin' 'ere, an' list'nin' there
   So an an' ceterer ad infinit'.

Yeh see, I got the style the way I speak;
   Likewise I got the gance.  That's wot appeals
An' Latin never got me that, nor Greek,
   But jist a gift for dishin' blokes in deals.
Thirty odd thousan'!  But the coots 'oo'd waste
   Good cash on universities I doubt
Could make ten quid.  But each one to 'is taste;
   Or, as the French sez, " "Chaysong eysong gout."

Undubitably culcher's very nice;
   But I don't pay not tax for 'ighbrow schools!
Filchin' the public fun's becomes a vice
   When used to edjicate penorous fools.
That's wot I tells me sons when they plagues me
   For more book-learnin' -- ologies an' fuss:
It's cash, not culcher, conquers.  Look at me!
   Pater familiar's no ignoramus.

Indoubtably, I say when I git sent --
   As I 'ave every right to 'ope to be --
In the near fucher into Parliament
   Them there perfessers gits no change from me.
Per-fessers!  Nice soft jobs they got, no doubt;
   'Orse-sense, not ologies, is wot I speak.
Let 'em be self-supportin', or git out!...
   So we'll adjourn sign die till Choosd'y week.