Punch (96.1889)

324

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[June 29, 1889:

First B. (who, upon
reflection, finds that he
hasn't the faintest idea).
Oh, nothing1 very much
—more the manner,
yon know, than any-
thing else—it’s the men
who have all the really
fnnny songs.

\_A Male Artiste ap-
pears, bowing and
kicking up his left
leg behind: the First
Briton bends forward
with an anxious
frown, determined to
let nothing escape him
this tune. Fortu-
nately, as M. Char-
lemagne, the Comic
Singer, possesses a
powerful voice, the
First Briton is able
to folloiv most of the
words, from which,
although they reach
his ear in a somewhat
perverted form, he
contrives to extract
intense amusement.
This is how the
Chansonreaches him.

Senl boulevard silent
vous arrete:

Quand monde a tout
depart d’amas,

[He can't quite make
out this last word.

Repondez vitement—
[Something he doesn't
catch.

Le fou l’eau sitot vous
crie “un rat! ”
[Here he whispers to
his friend that
“ That last line
was rather neat."

Refrain (to which M.
Charlemagne
dances a gavotte
with his hat thrust
into the small of his
back).

II n’a pas depart
Dinard.

[This makes the First
Briton — who once
spent a week at Di-
nard— laugh immo-
derately.

M. EIFFEL.

Our Artist’s Latest Tour de Force.”

One of the Niggers
to the other. “Ha—
George Washington,
Sar ! I ’ll warm you
fur dat ar conduck! ”)
First B. (in a supe-
rior manner). Oh, yes ;
you soon get into the
accent.

[Later — M. Charle-
magne has re-ap-
peared, and sung a
song about changing
his apartments, with
spoken passages of a
pronouncedly Pari-
sian character.

First B. (who little
suspects what he has
been roaring with
laughter at.) That fel-
low really is amusing.
I must, take Nellie to
hear him some night
before we go back.

Second B. (dubi-
ously). But aren’t some
of the songs—for a girl
of her age—eh ?

First B. My dear fel-
low, not a bit! I give
you my word I haven’t
heard a single line yet
that was in the least
offensive—not a single
line! Anybody might
go ! Look here—it’s
Polusse next; now you
listen—he'll make you
laugh!

[ The great M. Paulus
appears and sings
several “ Chansons"
in a confidentially
lugubrious tone, and
with his forefingers
thrust into his waist-
coat pockets. Curi-
ously enough, our
First Briton is less
successful in follow-
ing M. Paulus, than
he teas with the
Artistes who pre-
ceded him—but this
is entirely owing to
the big drum and
cymbals, which will
keep coming in and
putting him out—
something in this

Ne Pa, ne Ma!

C’etait pas tant, mais sais comm 5a—

II n’a pas depart Dinard,

II non a pas certain-y-mal la!

First Briton (to Second Ditto). Very funny, isn’t he ?

Second B. (who—less fortunate than his friend—has not caught a
single word). Um—can’t say I see much in it myself.

First B. (compassionately). Can’t you? Oh, you’ll get into the
way of it presently.

Second B. But what’s the joke of all that about “ Pa ” ?

First B. (who has been honestly under the impression that he did
see a point somewhere). Why, he says he’s an orphan—hasn’t any
Pa nor Ma.

Second B. (captiously). Well, there’s nothing so very funny
in that!

First B. (giving up the point on consideration, as M. Charlemagne
skips off). Oh, it’s all nonsense, of course; these fellows only
come on to fill up the time till Polusse sings (feels rather proud of
having caught the right pronunciation). PdLUSSE is the only one
really worth listening to.

Second B, (watching two Niggers in a Knockabout Entertainment).
I oan follow these chaps better. [ Complacently.

M. Paulus.

Et quand j’rentr’, ee n’est pour rien—

Ma belle me dit; “ mon pauv’ bonhomme,

Tu n’a pas Pair de "—(The cymbals : brim-brin-brien!)

Ell’m’ flanqu’ des giffl’s— (The drum ; pom-pom-pom-pom!)

Refrain (which both Britons understood).

“ Sur le bi—sur le bo ; sur le bo, de bi, de bo.

Sur le bo—sur le bi; sur le bi, de bo, de bi! ” &c., &c., &c.

First Briton (after twenty minutes of this sort of thing). That’s
the end, I suppose. They’ve let down the curtain. Capital, wasn’t
he ? I could listen to him all night!

SecondB. (as they pass out). So could I—delightful! Don’t know
when I’ve enjoyed anything so much. The other people don’t seem
to be moving, though. (Consults programme.) There’s another Part
after this. Paulus is singing again. I suppose you ’ll stay ?

First B. Well—it’s rather late, isn’t it ?

Second B. (much relieved). Yes. Not worth while going back now
(with a yawn). We must come here again.

First B. (making a mental resolution to return no more). Oh, we
must; nothing like it on our side of the Channel, y’ know.

Second B. (with secret gratitude). No, we can’t do it. (Walk back
to their hotel in a state of great mental exhaustion, and finish the
evening with a bock on the Boulevards.)