“That (the defeat of our measures) was all due to Obstruction....  It appears that Crown and Parliament are alike to be disestablished, and that in their stead we are to put the Obstructive and the Bore....  I should like to ask them what kind of Government they think best, a Bureaucracy or a Bore-ocracy?”—­Mr. Balfour at Manchester.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a dry and dusty volume of Blue-Bookish lore,—­
While I nodded nearly napping, suddenly there came a yapping,
As of some toy-terrier snapping, snapping at my study door. 
“’Tis some peevish cur,” I muttered, “yapping at my study door,—­

                        Only that,—­but it’s a bore.”

Ah! distinctly I remember, it was drawing nigh September,
And each trivial Tory Member pined for stubble, copse, and moor;
Eagerly they wished the morrow; vainly they had sought to borrow
From their SMITH surcease of sorrow, or from GOSCHEN or BALFOUR,
From the lank and languid “miss” the Tory claque dubbed “Brave BALFOUR,”

                        Fameless else for evermore.

Party prospects dark, uncertain, sombre as night’s sable curtain,
Filled them, thrilled them with fantastic funkings seldom felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of faint hearts, they kept repeating
Futile formulas, entreating Closure for the “Obstructive Bore”—­
With a view to Truth defeating, such they dubbed “Obstructive Bore,”

                        As sought Truth, and nothing more.

Presently my wrath waxed stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Cur!” I said; “mad mongrel, truly off your precious hide, I’ll score;
Like your cheek to come here yapping, just as I was gently napping;
You deserve a strapping,—­yapping, snapping at my study door. 
I shall go for you, mad mongrel!” Here I opened wide the door. 

                        Darkness there, and nothing more!

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there nothing hearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams of Spooks, Mahatmas, Esoteric lore;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token. 
Hist! there were two words soft spoken, those stale words, “Obstructive Bore.” 
Bosh!  I murmured, and some echo whispered back, “Obstructive Bore”: 

                        Merely that, and nothing more.

Back into my study turning, with some natural anger burning,
Soon again I heard a sound more like miauling than before. 
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is a grimalkin at my lattice. 
Let me see if it stray cat is, and this mystery explore;
Where’s that stick?  Ah! wait a moment:  I’ll this mystery explore;

                        It shall worry me no more!”