Christmas Day, 1897

A filthy fog, foul-smelling, pungent, cold, Clammy and greasy, eye-offending, thick; A misery that must multiply tenfold The sufferings of the homeless poor, the sick, And all who in life's battle buffeted Most need the ministration of the sun, His light and heat benevolently shed, Lest they by cold and hunger be undone: A day to make the stoutest-hearted sad, To overcast the merriest face with gloom, To make alone the undertaker glad, And an to ponder on the final doom: Satan! henceforth your fuel spare in hell, A London fog will serve your tun as well!