Ix. The Rhymes Of Sym

Nobody knew why it should be so; Nobody knew or wanted to know. It might have been checked had but someone dared To trace its beginnings; but nobody cared. But 'twas clear to the wise that the Glugs of those days Were crazed beyond reason concerning a craze.

They would pass a thing by for a week or a year, With an air apathetic, or maybe a sneer: Some ev'ryday thing, like a crime or a creed, A mode or a movement, and pay it small heed, Till Somebody started to laud it aloud; Then all but the Nobodies followed the crowd.

Thus, Sym was a craze; tho', to give him his due, He would rather have strayed from the popular view. But once the Glugs had him they held him so tight That he could not be nobody, try as he might. He had to be Somebody, so they decreed. For Craze is an appetite, governed by Greed.

So on Saturday week to the Great Market Square Came every Glug who could rake up his fare. They came from the suburbs, they came from the town, There came from the country Glugs bearded and brown, Rich Glugs, with cigars, all well-tailored and stout, Jostled commonplace Glugs who dropped aitches about.

There were gushing Glug maids, well aware of their charms, And stern, massive matrons with babes in their arms. There were querulous dames who complained of the "squash," The pushing and squeezing; for, briefly, all Gosh, With its aunt and its wife, stood agape in the ranks-- Excepting Sir Stodge and his satellite Swanks.

The Mayor of Quog took the chair for the day; And he made them a speech, and he ventured to say That a Glug was a Glug, and the Cause they held dear Was a very dear Cause. And the Glugs said, "Hear, hear." Then Sym took the stage to a round of applause From thousands who suddenly found they'd a Cause.