In 1858 there was a Great Stink,
Much Sewage and Waste was the unfortunate link.
It stood in the Thames the whole Summer long,
With the Sun Baring down there was a bit of a Pong.
Effluent galore from the Rich and the Poor,
A deadly Miasma from Hells Closet door.
But let\'s give it it\'s dues to have the Cheek,
To tweak the Nose of the more Elite.
As it\'s Ghastly Shroud it did invade,
Those Hallowed Halls where Laws are made.
That Seat of Government where \'Gentlemen\' reside,
A Stench those Members would never abide.
So to make life Bearable on the Debating Floor,
Some desperate measures came to the fore.
For it grew so bad in the Prevailing time,
They drenched the Curtains in Chloride of Lime.
And Mister Disraeli who was never a fool,
Spoke quite at length on the \'Stygian Pool\'.
\'We need some Action on the City\'s Woes\',
\'The Accumulating filth and the Plaque it Sows\'.
\'A decent System is what we need\',
\'If future Health is to be Guaranteed\'.
So Joseph Bazalgette was given the Roll,
An Efficient System the ultimate Goal,
The Treatment of Waste that\'s Pleasing and Safe,
So that a disease like Cholara will quickly abate.
And by 75 all work complete,
With miles of Sewers of which to speak:
Two Pumping Stations a valuable aid,
An Adequate System thus being laid.
In the Present day it still functions strong,
A Victorian Saviour of London\'s Wrong.
But the Irony is, and this mark well,
When once all Government was choked by the Smell,
The Effluent now flows the other way,
A result of Sins the People say.
Their Behaviour most foul to shame the land,
A trait that Stains this Merry Band.
So it Ebbs and Flows throughout the Halls -
And a Putrid Stench spills out their Walls.