If
If by dialling 'H-E-L-P' from any phone box, a citizen could get through to an operator . . . --The Postmaster-General.
Brek-ke-kek-kek-koax-koax, Hark to the Aristophanical cracks.
The confident citizens, four pennies paid,
Dial and dial and dial for aid—
Dial in vain for an answer to soothe Their nerves as they stand in the telephone booth With the snow in their eyes and the storm on their backs.
Brek-ke-kek-kek-koax-koax.
The_burglar meanwhile is employing his leisure Annexing such goods as may fancy his pleasure, With the citizens hopelessly wondering why
Their cries for assistance produce no reply,
Till at length there comes through, like a Maenad enraged,
The news that the number is always engaged.
They sigh and they sob and they cover their tracks.
Brek-ke-kek-kek-koax-koax.
CHRISTOPHER HOLLIS
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