Punch (61.1871)

July 22, 1871.]

2i

MR. PUNCH AT THE HIGHLAND GAMES,

Shows the Natives how to "Put the Stone."

A CIVIC CROWN FOR THE CITY.

(Hawfinch sings.)

The famous Antchent Romans used, I knows, though hut a clown,
To reward a galliant resky for to vote a Civic Crown ;
Which there's none in my opinion moor desarvun of to wear
Than the Aldermen o' London and their Chief, the hold Lord Matoe.

A garland 'twas of oak twigs, like a crown as they did plait.
Julius Sazee, I suppose, wore summut like un for a hat:
So med London's gurt Lord Mayor do when a' mounts the City Throne,
Or his Lardship and the Aldermen each sport un round his own.

To resky Eppun Yorest 'tis that forrad they ha' stood.
Who could better yarn a Civic Crown than by savun' of a Wood ?
And the City Sewers' Commissioners the same wages has yarned too.
Honour be, I says, my bucks, to whomsomedever honour's due.

No zuccour could the Goverment, o'course not they, affoord
Lor to keep the Flats o' Wanstead from the clutches of a Lord,
Of a Peer, that, if so be as how he had but ben let bide,
Would ha cribbed the People's Commons and enclosed 'um fur and
wide.

Of all the world a Lord to do that there ungracious job,
Wuth a pus-proud upstart only, what you gentry calls a Snob,
As have no consarn for England's oaks and forests free and fair;
So three groans for that owdacious Lord, and three cheers for the
true Loed Matoe.

In these here times that ain't the work to do 'tis wise of Peers,
If so be as how they wants to keep their House above their ears.
But the Corporation o' London's use beun' made so clear and plain,
The cry is "Long live the Aldermen and no end to the Loed
Matoe's reign."

Success to'm in the battle they for Eppun' Yorest fights.
And I wish in the New Vorest too they had claim to Yorest rights,
For to save that there from them as thinks o' savun pence, nought
more;

Whilst taxation for no good is rose pounds wusser than afore.

A MOAN FROM A FREEMAN.

Me. Punch,—That I should live to hear that the House of
Commons have abolished Nomination Days at elections, levelled the
Hustings, swept away Speeches, Cheers, Processions, Bands of Music,
shows of hands, Ladies in the Balcony, showers of stones, dead
cats, unsavoury eggs, refuse vegetables, fun, fighting, torn coats and
broken heads! The trade in diachylon plaster will be seriously
affected, and the Roughs, Lambs, or whatever else they are called,
will positively want for beer! Nothing seems safe from the
destructive hand of the Lower House. All our old institutions, all our
cherished landmarks, all our venerable bulwarks are disappearing one
after the other; and if the Ballot Box is thrust down our throats, it
will become next to impossible to give or to get a nice little douceur.
I have heard—but this I can hardly swallow—that it has actually
been proposed to interfere between a man and his beer, and to pre-
vent .people drinking as much as they please! _

However, in the midst of all these revolutionary and republican
changes, I have one sure stay, one sheet-anchor, to cheer me up—
the House of Lords; and I feel confident that in this, the latest
instance of Democratic tyranny, that time-honoured Assembly will
see the danger to the Constitution which lurks in the monstrous
attempt to deprive us, the free and independent, of another of our
Palla diums—our Nomination Days. One of the Old Soet

Littleborough, Saturday Evening.

Shoppy.

Even in the matter of Dress our Doctor's taste is thoroughly
professional—he prefers a " Mixture."