A Dream of Harrogate

I had a dream the other night – the dream was simply great,
About the Hydros and the Cures you meet at Harrogate,
And in my dream I thought the place a mighty fame had won,
By curing every evil that was underneath the sun.
Prevented people having corns – reduced the price of meat,
Reduced the rates and taxes and the size of P'licemen's feet;
It caused the fountains in the Town to flow with bottled Bass,
It stopped the tongues of nagging wives and stopped escapes of gas.

The person who was beastly fat – or thin as any lath,
Resumed his normal size directly he had had a bath.
The chickens fed on sulphur and they all laid healthy eggs,
The ladies went in for the baths and all had lovely clothes.
The babies ceased their crying and no dogs were heard to bark.
And couples at the pictures stopped canoodling in the dark.
Tears were quite unknown and faces all were wreathed in smiles,

And tom–cats stayed at home and never went out on the tiles.
I thought, I'll go to Harrogate, it must be simply grand,
There's not a City like it if you search throughout the land,
I'll go and buy a ticket and I'll join its happy folk,
I reached the station – caught a train – jumped in, and then I woke!