Punch: Punch (23.1852)

250 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

THE TWO PLURALISTS.

MANY HUNDREDS. MANY DUTIES.

HOW WE BURIED PROTECTION. BY A MINISTERIAL MUTE.

Your burial-jobs may be sad sort of things

For the stiff 'uns and parties as mourns 'em,
But we fun'ral performers, we laughs and we sings,

And for tears and all that there—we scorns 'em;
Our saddest o' mugs is a mug of good beer,

With our plumes we packs up our long faces,
And we laugh and we chaff—it's quite pleasant to hear—

While atop of the hearse in our places.

In course for the job you makes up a sad nob,

Which you pulls off at close of the sarvice,
And as sorrow is dry, there's a good reason why,

None's so wet as your mournin' coach jarvies ;
Anyways 'taint no worse to be drivin' a hearse,

Than a cab, or a wan, or a carriage;
You gets your five bob for a funeral job,

As you does for a christ'nin or marriage.

As for walkers, and bearers, and stavesmen, and mutes,

What odds is the togs a man walks in P
There's some on us goes in Lord Mayors' City shows,

Some as supers the theatres stalks in.

But a show is a show, whatsomever the name,

Gay or glumpy don't matter a biffin;
And for what a chap follows, why that's all the same,

If a sheriff or only a stiff 'un.

'Tother day the kind Fates 'pointed me and my mates

Undertakers—for Gover'ment business—
With such lots o' black jobs, that no wonder my nob's

Bayther queered with what they calls dizzpness ;
But I may say the lot of " performers " we've got,

Is such as must give satisfaction
To parties we buries; now, there's old Jack Herries,

Stale he may be, but still what fine action!

And then there's Job Henlet, and that there young Stanley—

Steady lad, though his father's own son, Sir;
While to bear plumes or banners, there's handsome John Manners

Does that, as it's never been done, Sir.
As for Derby, d'ye see, 'twixt the post, you and me,

He's a dra?, p'rhaps, upon the concern, Sir;
But him I've booked up too, 'cos he's much looked up to,

And, old as he is, he can learn, Sir.