Punch: Punch (57.1869)

48

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[August 7, 1869.

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ALL THINGS ARE RELATIVE.

fragment of dialogue overheard in the park.
Smith (in the White Hat). "Why don't you Marry, Brown ?"

Brown. "Marry/ I// Ah, it's all very.welt, for a tall, strapping Young Fellow like you to talk of Marrying!
What Woman would ever Look at such an insignificant little Mite as I ?"

Smith (not displeased). "Oh, come, Old Fellow, it's not so Bad as that1 Let me offer you a Cigar!"

THE NEW ST. PANCEAS GUARDIAN.

Air—" The Old English Gentleman"

I'll sing you a new song, though the theme is of too old date,
Of the New St. Pancras Guardians, who've showed themselves up of
late,

Bringing Local Self-Government into contempt at a most alarming rate,
And proving the need of a Poor Law Board to rap o'er the knuckles
and pate

These New St. Pancras Guardians, who'd bring back the bad old
time !

This New St. Pancras Guardian in at the workhouse drops,
And orders his snack of tea and toast, and has his eggs and chops;
And he says grace for a good luncheon, while his oily brow he mops,
And out of the paupers' rations his own refreshment stops—

Does your New St. Pancras Guardian, who'd bring back the bad
old time!

The cry he was elected on, is " Keep down the Parish Bills : "
To be penny wise and pound foolish is his claim to the place he fills:
He's all for under-paid officers—with their fingers in parish tills—
And for lowest-tender contracts, though unhappy paupers he kills—
This New St. Pancras Guardian, who'd bring back the bad.old
time !

If the Master of the Workhouse dares look the Board in the face,
With your New St. Pancras Guardians he '11 soon be in disgrace.
What's the use of his knowing his duty, if he doesn't know his place ?

All medical men he holds humbugs, and all paupers' ailments feints :
He'll have the sick-wards cleared, double quick (so the Doctor he
acquaints),

"It may cost patients their lives!" Such stuff! These saw-bones

would anger Saints !
He HI soon find a Doctor who '11 make short work of paupers and their

complaints,

Will the New St. Pancras Guardian, who'd bring back the bad
old time !

If a few of 'em kick the bucket—'twill lighten the rates, you know:
We won't have no inquests, or, if we have, there's no marks on the
bodies to show:

If the Poor-Law Inspector comes prying, to blazes we '11 bid him go;
We won't stand no centralisation, and that we '11 let him know—

We New Guardians of St. Pancras, who'd bring back the bad old
time!

If the Master of the Workhouse split on us, his flint we '11 fix,
And suspend him till he learns the good of kicking against the pricks.
And the Press and the Poor Law Board we '11 defy to check our fan-
tastic tricks,

And at Wyatt throw loads of dirt, though the mud we fling only sticks
To the New St. Pancras Guardians, who'd bring back the bad
old time.

What's the good of Local Self-Government, if we 're to be bound by
the laws

To bear Centralisation's yoke on our necks, and her bridle in our jaws ?
Mind, if we fall, 'tis for Bumbledom and in penny wisdom's »cause,

Which means cringing to us, and grinding poor devils of pauper race, | And these will have no champions, if you withhold your applause

For the New St. Pancras Guardians, who'd bring back the bad old | Prom the New St. Pancras Guardians, who'd bring back the
time. ' i bad old time!