Punch: Punch (33.1857)

September 26, 1857.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 131

THE BALLAD OF ROARING HAnNA.

(RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE AUTHOR OF THE BALLAD OF " ORIANA.")

Reverend Drew and Cooke and Roe,

Roaring Hanna,
Preaching in the streets forego,

Roaring Hanna.
Where Orange hates and^ Papist, glow,
In Church 'twere wiser, if more slow,

Roaring Hanna,
To preach "the word" without "the blow,"

Roaring Hanna !

Think you seed of Christian sowing,

Roaring Hanna,
Like to thrive by blood set flowing,

Roaring Hanna ?
Staves were going, stones were throwing,
The gospel trump to battle blowing,

Roaring Hanna !
And the row to you was owing,

Roaring Hanna !

In your sables, black as night,

Roaring Hanna,
Cheek and choker both so white,

Roaring Hanna,
Your congregation armed for fight,
With staves in carnal fists held tight,

Roaring Hanna,
" Peace and good will" how well you cite,

Roaring Hanna !

Behind the Harbour Office wall,

Roaring Hanna,
Girt by your Lisburn lads so tall,

Roaring Hanna, Roaring Hanna !

What's factions flame, or hatred's gall,

What's riot, bloodshed, row, or brawl, Vain all remonstrance from the Beak

To one who boasts an inward call,
Roaring Hanna ?

In vain the Magistrates applied,

Roaring Hanna ;
Your rights were you to set aside,

Roaring Hanna ?
Your rights were you to set aside,,
Por Papists, though with guns supplied,

Roaring Hanna ?
Deemed they you lacked all Christian pride,

Roaring Hanna ?

" Sermons in stones " doth Shakspeare
trace,

Roaring Hanna ;
But " Stones in sermons " suit your case,'

Roaring Hanna :
Soon on your True-blue babes of grace,
The Papist ruffians rushed apace,

Roaring Hanna,
And argument to staves gave place,

Roaring Hanna.

A fair sight for the Sabbath-day,

Roaring Hanna,
And one you well to heart may lay,

Roaring Hanna.
How blest must be the prayers you say,
Mid curse and cry of party-fray,

Roaring Hanna ;
Nothing like oil can fire allay,

Roaring Hanna, Roaring Hanna ;

Off Clarke and Coates were forced to sneaic,

Roaring Hanna.
How I respect thy saintly cheek,
That law's protection dar'st to seek,

Roaring Hanna,
Law which thou wert the first to break,

Roaring Hanna.

Thou criest aloud ; none heed thy cries,

Roaring Hanna,
The worst-used man 'neath Irish skies,

Roaring Hanna :
The bloody Papists may arise,
Break Orange heads, black Orange eyes,

Roaring Hanna,
'Cause Protestants have done likewise,

Roaring Hanna !

Oh Papist triumph, Trueblue woe !

Roaring Hanna,
Oh Orange splendours waxing low !

Roaring Hanna !
Shall Papists vile give blow for blow,
And Justice not, as long ago,

Roaring Hanna,
'Twixt them and us a diff'rence know ?

Roaring Hanna !

When the Hussars charge down the quay,

Roaring Hanna,
When fire the Green Constab'lary,

Roaring Hanna,
Let grateful Belfast think of thee,
That sleeping party-hates set free

Roaring Hanna,
And bid him calm, who roused that sea,

Roaring Hanna !

TAME WILD SPORTS.

R. Monckton Milnes puts
forth, with his usual grace
of diction, a protest against
field-sports. He hopes that
one day they will be "super-
seded by geological and
botanical pursuits," which
he thinks will afford their
votaries greater pleasure
than "the staining the
fair carpet of nature with
the blood of her children."
Whether his having put
forward this amiable plea
has prevented Mr. Milnes
from bagging his grouse
and partridges this autumn,
Mr. Punch does not know
— any how, Mr. Milnes
has not sent him any. But
the idea of the kind-hearted
Member for Pontefract has
conjured up, in Mr. Punch's
fertile mind, a curious series
of newspaper announce-
ments, of the period when
hammer and scissors shall
have supplanted horse and
gun. How will this read ?
" The Party of Gentlemen-botanists who rent the swamp near
Squashton, arrived at their box on Wednesday, and sporting com-
menced on Thursday. Early in the day Mr. Wiggins made a splendid
right and left grab at a Pomeranius aquaticus that overhung a deep
ditch, but it escaped, and the sportsman went into the water. Mr.
Chalcidorus Smith bagged several prickly pears, upon which the
party afterwards sat, in discussion, and various points came up. The
Hon. and Rev. Prof. Lee secured several noble Pungi, especially an
Agaricus pestilentis, with which he experimented on a gamekeeper, for
whose widow, the result having been unfavourable, he has generously

provided. Lunch was supplied by a confectioner from Squashton.
The party was satisfied with the preserves.

" Mr. Monckton Milnes is entertaining Viscount Palmerston
and a distinguished party at Prystone Hall. Tuesday was their first
day on the rocks, when they had excellent sport. To the noble Vis-
count's hammer fell thirty-seven lumps of granite, four fine bits of
feldspar, a large slice of mica, and some oolites. Mr. Milnes suc-
ceeded in bagging twenty-eight pieces of granite, and in catching some
quartz in a primary trap set overnight by the keeper. Mr. Layard
brought down the side of a lime quarry, and Mr. Henry Drummond
potted several score head of fossils. The theories were rather wild,
and the savans were often at fault, and were also exposed to annoyance
from the clergy of the district, who warned them off several fields ; but
on the whole the first day of the season was satisfactory, and the
sportsmen pelted one another with their game all the way home."

A WELSH KISS.

by a FELLOW oe trinity college, dublin.

" a Gentleman named Morse met with a curious accident lately. Riding near
Cwmnrylhvydd, he was so struck by the charms of a market girl that he endeavoured
to salute her, but the Welsh maiden, indignant at his impertinence, stepped suddenly
back, and he sustained a severe fall."—The Cymmyrroidion (n. Wales).

Pallidus Morse

He fell off his horse,
In asking the Welsh girl to kiss him ;

Por a kiss, he forgot,

Isn't quite always what
Petimusque damusque vicissim.

extraordinary lateness of the season.

Summer seems to have returned. On the night of Friday last the
Opera of Don Giovanni was actually performed at Her Majesty's
Theatre ! _

Chinese Saying.—Trust not the Flatterer. In thy days of sun-
shine, he will give thee pounds of butter—and in thy hour of need,
deny thee a crumb of bread!