Punch (7.1844)

FRENCHMAN'S SECOND LESSON." *

Listen while I tell

Of the last and worst ;
It will make you swell

Till you nearly burst.
Car ce sont-la des perjides Albion-
nais !

A wicked print—avowed

The servant of Sir Peel—
lias laughed—yes, laughed aloud—

At France, and at Joinville !
These eyes, my little friend,
The very lines have seen :
IllsmrjCtt, Nay, hear me to the end—

Their author—is the Queen !

Willi a higher veneration than, ^ , ce sont-la, des pojideS Albion-
ever for his genius,

to m. l. de l....., poet to the

paris

{Papa lorjuitur.)

C^OME to me, my boy !
' Put your sabre down ;
Lay aside your toy

Of the Taken Town ;
And that pretty plate

Of the guillotine
Snipping off the pate

Of the faithless Queen.
Ah! ce sonl-la des perjides Albion-
nais !

You heard from your Mama
What almost drove you wild :

Now listen to Papa—

A new affront, my child !

nais

Sight to warm the coldest—

On his paddlebox,
When he struts, the boldest

Of the Gallic cocks
Bid the rascals yield,

If no arms they bear ;
When the knaves have kneeled,

Crow, but crowing spare—
Cuckadoodlcdoo ! ccs perfides
Albionnais !

Then to town apace,

Near the Temple land ;
Fall upon the base

Office in the Strand !
" Morblcu ! Sucre bleu ! "

Then proceed to scrunch
" Get injame, offrcux,

Polisson dc Punch ! "
Voila ! voila un perfidc Albion-
nais !

Hah ! my boy, you snatch
Your little sister's fan ;
You stamp, you kick, you scratch—

No wonder, little man !
He '11 be known and feared—

(How his eyes flash fire !)— Raise a guillotine

When he's got a beard, O'er the counter high ;

And grown a little higher.
Pour ecrascr les perfides Albion-
nais !

With him little gun,

And him blunderbuss,
He shall fight the Hun,

And the frozen Russ.
When he's beat them alt^

Cross the Straits of Dove?,
And (with Joinville) fall

On the Ramsgate Rover !
Car ce sonl-la des feroces Albion-
nais !

By that belle machine
Let the printer die !
Then the artists all;

Then the base boy, Dick
(Horrid foe to Gaul !)

Bid her quick repent

Of her sins and scorn,
Or she shall lament

That she e'er was born,
Pour tire Iieine des perjides
Albionnais !

Bid her think upon

Red Tahiti's day ;
And on Palmerstox—■

La France isole'e :
Senegambia's seas,

Stained with vin de Bcuune ; +
And on Sir Pe.nleazk

(Who burnt down Barcelone)
Car ce soul-la des " muueais pro-
cedes ! "

Seize Prince Albert ne.xt

(You'll know him by his liat; ;
Ask him on what pretext

He wears a thing like that.
Torment him as you list—

Deal him upon the check
(He cannot use his fist),

A " sovfflet hcroifjue !"
Car e'est un Prince, sinon un
Albionnais !

Avenge the soft Riijpoot,

lie must cut his stick ! And n,ild ^}^^ atop

Out ! ce Richard, ce perfide Albion-
nais !

Then go see the Queen,
The enemy of man !

V empoisonuense de Chi?ie,f
Des Indes la tyranne !

Torn from his flocks and flute,

The gentle Afi'ghan swain.
The rapine, tears, and blood,

By them, the buccaneers,
Carried o'er field and flood !

Then hey, boy, for Algiers !
El laissez la les perfides Albiciu-
nuis !

* In a late number of the Paris Charivari appeared a " Premiere Legon donnic d
U71 petit Lord par son grundpire, dediee, avec mediocre admiration de son talent, aa
poete de Punch," accompanied by a note, to the effect that it was all up with the
"entente cordiaie."

t " Rapine ct Foisvn," M. L. de L. ■ . . and Charivari, passim.

t It is much to be feared that Punch's English readers are ignorant of the crime
here laid to their charge. They must be referred to the Charivari (of some time back,)
passim, for the astounding allegation that certain perfidious sailors, when searching a
suspicious craft off the coast of Africa, either drank or threw overboard divers bottles of
vin ordinaire.

Vol. 7.

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