They'll None Of 'Em Be Missed.

A poem by William Schwenck Gilbert

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I've got a little list I've got a little list
Of social offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed who never would be missed!
There's the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that
And all third persons who on spoiling tete-a-tetes insist
They'd none of 'em be missed they'd none of 'em be missed!

There's the nigger serenader, and the others of his race,
And the piano organist I've got him on the list!
And the people who eat peppermint and puff it in your face,
They never would be missed they never would be missed!
Then the idiot who praises, with enthusiastic tone,
All centuries but this, and every country but his own;
And the lady from the provinces, who dresses like a guy,
And who doesn't think she waltzes, but would rather like to try;
And that singular anomaly, the lady novelist
I don't think she'd be missed I'm sure she'd not be missed!

And that Nisi Prius nuisance, who just now is rather rife,
The Judicial humorist I've got him on the list!
All funny fellows, comic men, and clowns of private life
They'd none of 'em be missed they'd none of them be missed.
And apologetic statesmen of the compromising kind,
Such as What-d'ye-call-him Thing'em-Bob, and likewise Never-mind,
And 'St 'st 'st and What's-his-name, and also You-know-who
(The task of filling up the blanks I'd rather leave to you!)
But it really doesn't matter whom you put upon the list,
For they'd none of 'em be missed they'd none of 'em be missed!

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