I go as a rule
At the coming of Yule,
To a place where the sunshine's obtrusive ;
At Hydros I'm found,
Where dyspeptics abound,
And massage and physic's inclusive ;
Or a shelter I grace
In some fashion-plate place
Where the giddy and frivolous throng go,
But to Fashion adieu,
If the rumour is true
They're reducing the fares on the Congo.
Each English resort
Will lack my support,
Nor do Cannes or Mentone intrigue me.
I see the same faces
At watering places,
And the places and faces fatigue me.
But I now can afford
To career like a lord
To the land of the palm and the mango ;
To the Tropics I'll ship
For a cheap little trip,
A week end at warm Wango-wango.
Eluding the net
Of my usual set
And the hump that it constantly gave me,
The lies and the smirks
Of refinement that irks
In the Jellala Falls I will leave me.
In a place I will stay
That is called O-go-way,
I will shake by the hand the Obongo,
And with vigour renewed
I shall come back imbued
With the charms that are cheap on the Congo.
