Found – this manuscript poem by E.V.Knox (1881 -1971) one-time editor of Punch , serious humorist, poet, parodist and satirist (known as ‘Evoe’). It was probably published in Punch and possibly just after the Second World War… seems rather topical…The plaque above is outside his house in Frognal, London NW3…
A LAST WORD TO THE FLOATERS
O scum of the Electorate
Whose vacillating heart is
Unclaimed by the protectorate
Of either of the Parties,
Politely let me woo you,
However plain your features,
And say some home truths to you
You nasty looking creatures.
Unless you vote sincerely
Unprompted by the devil
The sides may come out nearly,
Aye more, precisely level.
And where would England be then
If indolence so trumpery
Exposed her to the heathen-
A by word for Mugwunpery?
Why, damned to all perdition,
A land without a master,
Foredoomed to Coalition
And weltering in dienster:
This home of Kings and fighters
And Constitution-shapers
Depends on you, you blighters,
And how you mark your papers.
Come up then and deliver
This crisis-fronted nation
By waddling from the river
Up to the polling station;
Momentous now and dark as is
The hour, there’s worse to follow.
Unless you heave your carcases
Out of your miry wallow.
Forsake your impercipience,
Desert your river reaches,
You comatose Amphibians
For whom I make my speeches!
Consider in the process
How weary and how hot am I,
Come out and give your crosses
To me, you Hippopotami!