[According to a weekly paper, the nature of the “Hooligan” is soured because he does not live out in the wilds and fight wild beasts, and is thus compelled to get rid of his superfluous energy in other ways.]

Hooligan, your cheerless lot
 Very willingly I’d vary;
Yet, I fear me, I cannot
 Change Whitechapel to a prairie.
Buildings loom on every side.
 Streets and houses really are a
Bar to one who’d fain provide
 For your pleasure a Sahara.

Still, of course, I might at least
 Manage some day to supply an
Adequately fierce wild-beast,
 Say, a bear or, p’raps, a lion,
Or perchance to try your nerves
 Give you a man-eating tiger,
Hailing, as the bard observes,
 From the Congo or the Niger.

Other beasts of various sorts
 I will shortly try and bring you:
In your alleys, streets, and courts
 Snakes shall lie in wait to sting you;
Lurking silent on the leads,
 Leopards shall descend in showers
Daily on your bullet-heads.
 Wolves shall test your latent powers.

Now you lead a life of crime:
 Now your joy to maim and rob is;
Soon you’ll find you haven’t time
 To ill-treat the local bobbies.
And though life on such a plan
 May at first seem hardly pleasant,
It will change you to a Man
 (Which, you know, you aren’t at present).

P. G. W.