Ode on a Distant Prospect of Boston School

Ye modern spires, ye fireproof floors,
Of Boston's boarding-school,
Each grateful scion still adores
Your Hiram's homely rule;
For here no boy would ever brag
That he employed a ducal 'fag,'
His 'brolly' for to furl,
Or sent a Baronet 'up town'
To fetch his tea from 'Little Brown,'
Or caned a belted Earl!

His scorn of lords the youthful Yank
Can openly display,
For here, regardless of their rank,
The little Viscounts play.
The Earl of Byfleet's eldest son
Is known as Percival T. Bunn,
And joins the common scrum,
As daily he delights to share
With Chas. K. Grubb (Lord Woking's heir)
His wad of chewing-gum!

Here Reginald, Lord Swaffield's boy,
Protects beneath his wing
The family of Kid McCoy,
The famous Doughnut King;
While John, the Duke of Portsmouth's child
('Jawn' by his school-companions styled),
Forgets his kith and kin,
And soon begets a taste, alack!
For 'highballs,' 'cocktails,' 'canvasback,'
For clams and terrapin!

To each his fancies! I have done.
And yet, for auld lang syne,
Though Boston suits another's son,
Eton I'll choose for mine!
And though he won't acquire a twang,
Or get the hang of Yankee slang,
Like others of his class,
My son I'll seek to Anglicise;
For, if Lord Tankerville be wise,
I'd sooner be an ass!