A newspaper is a collection of half-injustices  
Which, bawled by boys from mile to mile,   
Spreads its curious opinion  
To a million merciful and sneering men,   
While families cuddle the joys of the fireside   
When spurred by tale of dire lone agony.  
 
A newspaper is a court  
Where every one is kindly and unfairly tried   
By a squalor of honest men.  
 
A newspaper is a market  
Where wisdom sells its freedom  
And melons are crowned by the crowd.  
 
A newspaper is a game  
Where his error scores the player victory   
While another's skill wins death. 
 
A newspaper is a symbol;  
It is feckless life's chronicle,  
A collection of loud tales  
Concentrating eternal stupidities,  
That in remote ages lived unhaltered,   
Roaming through a fenceless world.