Punch (30.1856)

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [Januaet 5, 1856.

A PANTOMIME NOTION FOR THE CHANCELLOR OF THE
EXCHEQUER.
here is a great amount
of puffery in most
of the Christmas
Pantomimes. A com-
mercial correspondent
suggests that it would
only be fair that on
those scenes for which
five pounds, ten
pounds, or twenty
pounds have been
paid for the exhibition
of some vulgar nos-
trum, there should be
pasted a monster re-
ceipt stamp, signify-
ing the precise sum
paid, and with the
manager's name scrib-
bled at full length
over it. This would
make it quite a busi-
ness transaction, and
would give each scene
the character of an advertising supplement to the large Brobdignagian
sheet of advertisements at present exhibited as a curtain at Caveat
Garden Theatre.


The tallow-mclter, would come helter-skelter,
Eor aid of the tardy police ;
Pounds on pounds of his tallow the bear would swallow,
There was nothing he loved like Grease.
If got rid of thence, on his master's pretence,
That of theft the brute didn't dream,
The next moment he'd drop on the hairdresser's shop
And bolt his Circassian cream.
The unhappy farriers couldn't find barriers
To keep him from nibbling their skins,
And e'en the fishmonger uaid toll to his hunger,
He so doated on Sound and Eins.
In default of meat, even physic he'd eat,
When he'd nothing else to be arter ;
And once on a cheuust he made the grimmest
Assault, for some cream of Tartar.
Bat those who know what that drug will do,
Might have said with voice prophetic,
That however pleasant it seem'd at present,
At last 'twould prove Tartar-emetic.
Nay, rather than starve, the brute would carve
His way through stones and slabs
To a fruiterer's vault, and make assault
On a store of Siberian cabs.
And for want of a dish of flesh or fish,
In a drying-ground fence he'd make holes ;
Where he'd frighten the women, and tear up the linen,
And then take to grinding the Poles.

Ail this John Bull heard, without a word,
A CHRISTMAS FABLE Still less an act of resistance;
„ „ , „ ' "'Twas no matter of his, it' Bear took that or this.
OF JOHN BULL AND THE THIEVISH BEAR. I ffe couldn't render assistance.

fat OrnSrju Cl)tl5r«n.
John Bull was an orderly citizen,
Who lived in a quiet street,
With a force of Police to keep the peace,
And each warn rogues off his beat.
He hated strife ; for a quiet life
Rates and taxes no end he paid ;
Nor starved his servants, nor thrash'd his wife,
But stuck to his shop and his trade.
He was rather selfish it must be own'd.
In his hatred of beggars and noise;
'Gainst their woes he'd parade his thriving trade,
'Gainst their jars his family joys.
To foreign distress would have nought to say,
And when ask'd for relief would be bearish,—
With a " Heav'n helps those who help themselves,
And " If they're hard up, there's the Parish."
He had moved on no end of Italian boys,
Snubb'd Hungarian minstrels sturdy;
All Marseillaises he had sent to blazes,
On French horn or hurdy-gurdy.
Not a penny he'd stand to a German band,
But bid them be hang'd with their jangle
0! drum and trombone, and Saxophone,
Cornet, ophicleide, and triangle.
In his own snug parlour, well-lit and warm,
He thought little of garret or vault;
" I made my own way," he was apt to say,—
" If they can't, it's their own fault."
Thirty years John spent in this selfish content,
Thought nothing could trouble his quiet,
Till eighteen 'fifty-four to John's peaceable door
Buought trouble and row and riot.
A rogue there was by the name of Romanoff,
Who went about with a bear,
A surly luute, but with scent so acute
He poked his nose everywhere.
That thing was not too heavy or hot,
For him to hug, and swallow.
Spite of muzzle and pole, be snapp'd and he stole,
Though owners might rage and holloa.
AH sorts of meat the brute would eat,
Ne'er was burglary, but you'd find him in it.
And his appetite, inordinate quite,
Was perfectly indiscriminate,

He was forced >o stop and look after his shop,
Had no time to spare from his business ;
The Bear might be about, he didn't doubt,
But it didn't cause him, uneasiness."
'Till one fine day, Bear took his way
To John Ball's city-quarter,
Where a poulterer's board was temptingly stored
With fowls for Christmas slaughter.
There, flower of the flock,,prime bird of the stock,
With red wattles, and plumage murky
Abroad display'd, was temptingly laid,
An old, bat still toothsome Turkey!
On his way past the shop, John ('tis whisper'd), would stop,
And his chops had been seen to be licking ;
Ann folks have said, that what ran in his head,
Was : " Lord, there's bones for picking ! "
However heroic, John wasn't a Stoic;
He may have wish'd he own'd it;
B it whatever he thought, he never bought
The Tarkey, much less boned it.
Not so the Bear; since the bird lay there
0"er the shop he had stood sentry ;
And John Bull one day, as he pass'd that way,
Caught the brute in the act of entry.
The Bear detected, in John suspected
Nothing else bur, a rival plunderer.
" We'll share," says he : " there'll be half for me;
And half for you, Old Thunderer! "
John feeling a doubt, in a wrestling bout
Which deuiolish'd might be, which demolisher
Ran off for a friend, his aid to lend—
One Louis, a skilful French-polisher.
The Bear look'd posed; to the two proposed
Dividing the Turkey in three.
" You take drum-sticks a-piece; there '11 be only the grease,
Thighs, breast, and wings for me."
In wrath and derision of this cool proposition,
They warn'd the brute off the premises ;
But he show'd his claws, and growl'd from his jaws,- -
" If you ain't hungry, there's them as is :
Your threats I brave; the Turkey I'll have,
By foul means or by fair ones ;
The Bird in the tussle we shall so tear and hustle,
Those who get bones will get bare ones."