Floating Voters

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!