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.