by F. Raymond Coulson & George Wells (1914) Mister Brown, of Turnham Green, View'd all bikes with baleful glare, He was never, never seen Scorching off to anywhere. 'Oft a fall upon the head Dislocates the vertebrae, So I'll ride no bike,' he said. 'Home's the safest place for me!' Mister Brown of Turnham Green, Never motor'd out of town, Flashing through the sylvan scene, Cutting laggard chickens down; Never went to hunt the deer, Never after grouse would roam. 'No,' he cried, 'I'm safest here, So I'd rather stay at home.' Mister Brown of Turnham Green, Never in the summer took Tourist trips; he'd never been 'On the Continong' with Cook. 'Fogs and rocks and tempests grim Menace ships that cross the foam, And,' he cried, 'I cannot swim, So I'm better off at home!' Mister Brown, of Turnham Green, Didn't care for sport at all; Knew a fellow who had been Crippled by a cricket ball. Knew a man who, catching trout, Caught a cold, and — R.I.P. 'Ah,' said Brown, 'beyond a doubt Home, sweet home's the place for me!' So from home at Turnham Green Brown was never coax'd away; Never in a train was seen, Off to spend a happy day. Shunning risk in ev'ry shape, There he sipp'd his quiet cup. But, alas! a gas escape One bright morning blew him up.
The end