20 
THE WORLD’S TRAGEDY. 
 
Ga !  Oa !  Hoo !  Hoo ! 
Scratch ! 
I must invent a plan 
To ruin all this gladness. 
Ha !  Plup !  I have it. 
There’s nothing here 
That would accept my favours — 
Uck !  Bulch ! — 
So I’ll abuse myself to chaos 
And see what comes of it. 
Ha — Ba !  Ha — Ba ! 
Ab — ab — ab — ab — ab ! 
Utch — what is this ? 
Coagulated yolk of the addled egg 
Of chaos !  Hatch it out ! 
That’s why I AM.  Hoo — hoo — hoo — hoo — hoo ! 
Oh ! — now the white of the old egg is curdled 
Into a ragged fleece. 
Ga !  Ga !  I’ve got a son : 
What will it be ? 
O heaven — a lamb ! 
I’m Yaugh Waugh, Yaugh Waugh. 
I’ll call it Yaugh Shaugh Waugh. 
Good !  Can you talk,