Punch: Punch (101.1891)

30

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI

[July 18, 1891,

SOCIAL AGONIES.

Fair Visitor {to Hostess). "What a delightful Concert you gave us last Wednesday, dear Mrs. Jones ! Such lovely
Music !—such smart People ! Everybody one knows, you know ! "

[Mrs. Jones's Aunt Tabitha {from vltom she has great expectations) hears of this delightful Concert for the first time .'

^.^^-^ „ I—ahem! blessed it fervently,

" GOOD-BYE, GRANDMAMMA ! " Emperors must not complain ;

{A Long Way after "Child* Harold.") Bl\V*°' d? ke6P l°U[ Bah?lon

J ^ • ' \V nen 1 come back again.

Adieu, adieu Old Albion's shore ! For Garden Parties, Shows, Reviews,

I leave, to bound the blue. And civic functions pale,

My Yacht lies yonder ! "lis a bore, When water soaks the stoutest shoes,

But I must part from you. And it blows half a gale.

I sniff the brine, I love the sea ;

Thanks, Grand'ma, for that kerchief wave,

And that right royal smile !
Welcome, ye billows, tumbling brisk

Beneath a cloud-swept sky !
Give your white kerchief one more whisk,

Dear Grandmamma—Good-bve !

Half Englishman am I.
Farewell to England, and to thee,
Dear Grandmamma—good-bye !

I leave your isle, the truth to tell,

With qualified regret.
July in London would be well,

But for the heavy wet.
The soaking shower, the sudden sruall

Spare not Imperial "tiles."
May it be dry when next I call,

1 our slushiest of isles !

Yet I 've enjoyed my visit, much,

In spite of wet and wind.
I with John Bull have been in touch;

You have been passing kind.
My father and grandfather gone

Once trod your city sad ;
Now I the daring deed have done,

And—it is not half bad.

That Opera Show was quite a sight ;

Your Sheriff Harris—well—
Augustus, after Actium's fight,

Was scarce a greater swell.
The long parade, led by the Blues,

Gave me the blues again.
Not that the citizen were screws,

No, Grand'ma, 'twas that rain !

Tour Lord Mayor and his liveried lot,

They know a thing or two.
Speeches of course are always rot,
But then—the skies were blue !
As for your Crystal Palace—ah!

Your pride I would not shock,
But you owe much, dear Grandmamma,
To Paxton and to Brock.

Your warriors are fine, if few ;

But still, if you ask me,
You leave far too much power to

A Railway Company.
I would not let civilians snub

My paladins—no fear !
But then a Teuton—there 's the rub !

Is no mere Volunteer !

And now I really must be gone

Upon the wide, wide sea.
Stiff state no more shall make me groan,

SCOTT (ANYTHING BUT) FREE.

[" It is human nature, after all. When conscien-
tiously I cannot praise actors or actresses, or
authors, they turn their backs upon me. But when
conscientiously I am able to draw attention to their
great merits, they simply overflow."—Mr. Clemext
Scott, in The Illustrated London Neu>s.~]

Unlucky Mr. Clement Scott !
Since those who act our plays or write
them,

Are so exacting that he's got
The greatest trouble to delight them.

When conscience tells him not to praise
They "turn their backs" and will not
know him,

When their " great merits " make him raise
His voice—they " simply overflow" him !

Note for an Imperial Diary.—There were
, just a couple or so of real good wet days for ]
Hurrah forlibertT^ Si"a"' j our Imperial and Royal Highnesses. Jupiter

Pluvius ladled it out to us unstintingly in
Imperial buckets full. Our Cousin German,
so affectionately dutiful to " Grandmamma,''
won't forget La Rain cPAngleterre in a
hurry. Mem. Next visit to London, bring;
fewer uniforms and more waterproofs and
umbrellas.

I'm tired to death of functions fine,

And ceremonial rot;
Hurrah for ease ! the breezy brine

Tar-toggery, and my Yacht!

With yonder bark I '11 gladly brave
The seas about vour isle.