Discerning Mr. Murphy sees
The dangers of the foolish plan
Of giving frailty its fees,
And taxing weak, misguided man.
Reluctantly, and red with shame,
He tells of girls depraved, who may
Take up the old, maternal game
On business lines, and make it pay,
If only foolish magistrates
Will give them rather higher rates.

An extra bob or two a head
Will shatter virtue's final guard;
The tax on bachelors would spread
A baby farm in every yard.
To populate our empty lands
Bring black or brown across the seas
From Hindu, Jap, or coral strands,
But lighten not the penalties
For bearing babes. Such clemence vile
Might make it worth a woman's while.