DOI issue:
March 6, 1858
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16621#0101
MARcn 6. 1 80S.J
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
93
BALLADS FOR THE BARRACK-ROOM.
No. 2.
Air—" Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England."
THE GREAT ERUGAL MARRIAGE QUESTION.
as viewed by a mamha-in-law.
" My dear Mr. Punch", " Hyacinth Cottage, Tuesday, 1S53.
"As you are always the Champion of the outraged and oppressed,
1 make no apologies for troubling you with this, for I am sure you will
allow it is a case of real distress, and one that has the strongest claims
upon your sympathy. The appeal I wish to make, through your widely
influential and delightful columns, is in behalf of a most suffering and
most deserving class ; who, although you have occasionally ridiculed
their weaknesses, yet feel they can rely on your known gallantry to help
them. The martyrs 1 allude to are those poor injured creatures, the
Mothers-in-law of this our otherwise ' happy land ;' and as I am
not ashamed to own I am one of them myself, you must excuse me if
my feelings prove too strong for my propriety.
" Now, goodness knows, I'm not of a complaining disposition, and
I'm sure as for that matter there's no more uncomplaining creature
living than a Mother-in-law. But there are some things, Mr. Punch,
that would aggravate an angel: and the way these horrid men who
have been writing to the Times, and divulging half the secrets of
their 'frugal' married life, and for my part I'm astonished at their
I making such disclosures, and putting down their Washing and their
! Doctors' bills, and even nursery expenses, it's really quite indelicate,
and they ought to be ashamed of it—the way, I say these wretches
I have been treating us poor Mothers-in-law is really quite past bear-
\ing, and I must say I've no patience with them. 7, Sir, have
1 perused their precious rigmaroles. Yes—as a woman and a mother,
I've considered it my duty to read every word of them. And when I
tell jou, Mr. Punch, that of all these 'Happy Men' there's not so
much as one who makes the most distant of allusions, even, to the
fact of there being such a person in existence as his, Mother-in-law, I'm
sure you will allow, Sir, we have some grounds for complaint, and that
I have some excuse perhaps for troubling you to say so. Why, one
would have thought, in common decency, no married man would ever
have alluded to his happiness, without just mentioning, at all events, to
whom he was indebted for it. But, really, from the way these odious
creatures pass over their wives' mothers, and indeed seem to affect to
ignore their existence, one might almost think the monsters meant to
have the fact inferred that their felicity is caused by the absence of
those relatives. It is clear, at least, not one of them has ever let his
Mother-in-law so much as pop her nose withinside of his door-step!
I'm quite sure I'm right in saying that not so much as one of
these unnatural sons (in law) has ever even had the common courtesy
to tell his poor dear martyr of a wife, that she may write and ask
Mamma to come and spend a week with her. The wretches, almost all
of them, appear to give the most disgustingly minute particulars of
their butcher's meat and beer-money, and their cheesemongering and
tallow-chandling; and, for my part, I can't think how they could ever
dream of publishing such statements, and letting everybody know
what tea and sugar they consume, and, as Mr. Shakespeare says,
' chronicling their small beer,' for all the world to laugh at—it's really
quite disgraceful, and I'm certain sure no wife of any spirit would have
suffered it. Mr. Punch, the creatures positively do all this, and put
down what they spend, even to the sixpences, and in not one of their
accounts is there the faintest evidence, as far as I can see, of their
wives' mothers having ever even had a bit of lunch with them, much
less having sat down to a hospitable meal. No, Sir, the selfish brutes
have spent their precious incomes entirely on themselves. The whole
of their three hundred sterling sovereigns per annum has been annually
squandered on their own pampered tastes and appetites. Not so much,
Sir, as a sweetbread or a slice of pickled salmon can these eyes of mine
discover has been given their poor Mothers-in-law. What with all
their 'Charity' (which means, I know, Cigars !), and their dozens of
old port, and I've no doubt hock and claret—(one monster has con-
| fessed that he spends tico pounds and fourpence yearly with his wine-
Oh, blow the Old English Boiled Beef! " j merchant!),— these gourmands seem to live like fighting-cocks them-
..... , selves, and enjoy their' Library Subscriptions,' and all sorts of creature
With the shako that lets the ram into his neck, _ comforts. Call themselves frugal men, indeed! "Why, the most
And the pack, poucn, and cross-belts, his breathing that check, 1 economic of them spends a mint of money every year upon his coal-
And the barrack-room reeking like any slave-deck, merchant, and there's hardly one but pays as much as six or seven
Keep up the Boiled Beet of Old England, pounds in paving rates and taxes ! And yet, living, as they all do, in
the very lap of luxury, and having no encumbrances worth mentioning,
for not one of them, it seems, has more than five small children, it's
plain they never spend a sixpence on their Mother-in-law, and don't so
much as ever give a crust of bread to her !
"Pray don't fancy, Mr. Punch, from what I may have happened
to say, that I mean at all to sneer at any frugal happy couples.
But 1 do say it's a shame for young people to think solely and
entirely of themselves and. their own comforts, and not to give a
thought to the wants of their dear parents. To my mind, Sir, a man
has no right to dream of marrying, until he's quite in a position to
maintain his Mother-in-law. Of course, in cases like my own, where
she is left an independence, there is scarcely any likelihood that she
That mighty Boast Beef was the Englishman's food,
And spoon-meat the Frenchman's was once understood,
And mess-bugles at dinner-time still stir the blood,
With "Oh, the Boast Beef of Old England,
And Oh, for Old English Boast Beef."
Yes " Oh, for Boast Beef" well our soldiers may sigh,
They may sniff it down areas, in cook-shops may eye;
But save in that music, bid life-long good bye,
To the famous Boast Beef of Old England,
The mighty Old English B.oast Beef.
For as if we'd ta'en lesson from soup-stewing Erance,
In our barracks Boast Beef is a dream of romance,
And the man who enlists is condemned in advance,
To sing, " Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And "Blow that Old English Boiled Beef! "
If against civil broils barrack-rules still must preach,
And our troops rule the roast, but in figure of speech,
Then surely wc 're bound our mess-bugles to teach
To play "Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And " Blow the Old English Boiled Beef! "
WThat's the odds if at Bouilli the soldier looks blue ?
' lis the rule of the service, and can't be broke through.
Against roast, frv, or bake Colonel North in a stew
Would cry, " Where's the Boiled Beef of Old England,
Oh, where 'a the Old English Boiled Beef ?"
What with those leather collars, their throttles that lock,
And those weary camp-kettles, their hunger that mock,
Our poor British soldiers must, surely hate stock,
And sing, " Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,
Keep up the Old English Boiled Beef.
At huge cost let recruits still be drilled, dressed, and taugnt,
To have them die off twice as fast as they ought,
Let General Boutine still set reason at nought,
And sing, " Oh, the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And " Oh, the Old English Boiled Beef!"
By all means let our soldiers be served, in the way,
That famed Dr. Kitch'ner said cucumbers may,
First dress 'em with care, and then throw them awar,
And sing, " Oh, the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And " Oh, the Old English Boiled Beef! "
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
93
BALLADS FOR THE BARRACK-ROOM.
No. 2.
Air—" Oh, the Roast Beef of Old England."
THE GREAT ERUGAL MARRIAGE QUESTION.
as viewed by a mamha-in-law.
" My dear Mr. Punch", " Hyacinth Cottage, Tuesday, 1S53.
"As you are always the Champion of the outraged and oppressed,
1 make no apologies for troubling you with this, for I am sure you will
allow it is a case of real distress, and one that has the strongest claims
upon your sympathy. The appeal I wish to make, through your widely
influential and delightful columns, is in behalf of a most suffering and
most deserving class ; who, although you have occasionally ridiculed
their weaknesses, yet feel they can rely on your known gallantry to help
them. The martyrs 1 allude to are those poor injured creatures, the
Mothers-in-law of this our otherwise ' happy land ;' and as I am
not ashamed to own I am one of them myself, you must excuse me if
my feelings prove too strong for my propriety.
" Now, goodness knows, I'm not of a complaining disposition, and
I'm sure as for that matter there's no more uncomplaining creature
living than a Mother-in-law. But there are some things, Mr. Punch,
that would aggravate an angel: and the way these horrid men who
have been writing to the Times, and divulging half the secrets of
their 'frugal' married life, and for my part I'm astonished at their
I making such disclosures, and putting down their Washing and their
! Doctors' bills, and even nursery expenses, it's really quite indelicate,
and they ought to be ashamed of it—the way, I say these wretches
I have been treating us poor Mothers-in-law is really quite past bear-
\ing, and I must say I've no patience with them. 7, Sir, have
1 perused their precious rigmaroles. Yes—as a woman and a mother,
I've considered it my duty to read every word of them. And when I
tell jou, Mr. Punch, that of all these 'Happy Men' there's not so
much as one who makes the most distant of allusions, even, to the
fact of there being such a person in existence as his, Mother-in-law, I'm
sure you will allow, Sir, we have some grounds for complaint, and that
I have some excuse perhaps for troubling you to say so. Why, one
would have thought, in common decency, no married man would ever
have alluded to his happiness, without just mentioning, at all events, to
whom he was indebted for it. But, really, from the way these odious
creatures pass over their wives' mothers, and indeed seem to affect to
ignore their existence, one might almost think the monsters meant to
have the fact inferred that their felicity is caused by the absence of
those relatives. It is clear, at least, not one of them has ever let his
Mother-in-law so much as pop her nose withinside of his door-step!
I'm quite sure I'm right in saying that not so much as one of
these unnatural sons (in law) has ever even had the common courtesy
to tell his poor dear martyr of a wife, that she may write and ask
Mamma to come and spend a week with her. The wretches, almost all
of them, appear to give the most disgustingly minute particulars of
their butcher's meat and beer-money, and their cheesemongering and
tallow-chandling; and, for my part, I can't think how they could ever
dream of publishing such statements, and letting everybody know
what tea and sugar they consume, and, as Mr. Shakespeare says,
' chronicling their small beer,' for all the world to laugh at—it's really
quite disgraceful, and I'm certain sure no wife of any spirit would have
suffered it. Mr. Punch, the creatures positively do all this, and put
down what they spend, even to the sixpences, and in not one of their
accounts is there the faintest evidence, as far as I can see, of their
wives' mothers having ever even had a bit of lunch with them, much
less having sat down to a hospitable meal. No, Sir, the selfish brutes
have spent their precious incomes entirely on themselves. The whole
of their three hundred sterling sovereigns per annum has been annually
squandered on their own pampered tastes and appetites. Not so much,
Sir, as a sweetbread or a slice of pickled salmon can these eyes of mine
discover has been given their poor Mothers-in-law. What with all
their 'Charity' (which means, I know, Cigars !), and their dozens of
old port, and I've no doubt hock and claret—(one monster has con-
| fessed that he spends tico pounds and fourpence yearly with his wine-
Oh, blow the Old English Boiled Beef! " j merchant!),— these gourmands seem to live like fighting-cocks them-
..... , selves, and enjoy their' Library Subscriptions,' and all sorts of creature
With the shako that lets the ram into his neck, _ comforts. Call themselves frugal men, indeed! "Why, the most
And the pack, poucn, and cross-belts, his breathing that check, 1 economic of them spends a mint of money every year upon his coal-
And the barrack-room reeking like any slave-deck, merchant, and there's hardly one but pays as much as six or seven
Keep up the Boiled Beet of Old England, pounds in paving rates and taxes ! And yet, living, as they all do, in
the very lap of luxury, and having no encumbrances worth mentioning,
for not one of them, it seems, has more than five small children, it's
plain they never spend a sixpence on their Mother-in-law, and don't so
much as ever give a crust of bread to her !
"Pray don't fancy, Mr. Punch, from what I may have happened
to say, that I mean at all to sneer at any frugal happy couples.
But 1 do say it's a shame for young people to think solely and
entirely of themselves and. their own comforts, and not to give a
thought to the wants of their dear parents. To my mind, Sir, a man
has no right to dream of marrying, until he's quite in a position to
maintain his Mother-in-law. Of course, in cases like my own, where
she is left an independence, there is scarcely any likelihood that she
That mighty Boast Beef was the Englishman's food,
And spoon-meat the Frenchman's was once understood,
And mess-bugles at dinner-time still stir the blood,
With "Oh, the Boast Beef of Old England,
And Oh, for Old English Boast Beef."
Yes " Oh, for Boast Beef" well our soldiers may sigh,
They may sniff it down areas, in cook-shops may eye;
But save in that music, bid life-long good bye,
To the famous Boast Beef of Old England,
The mighty Old English B.oast Beef.
For as if we'd ta'en lesson from soup-stewing Erance,
In our barracks Boast Beef is a dream of romance,
And the man who enlists is condemned in advance,
To sing, " Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And "Blow that Old English Boiled Beef! "
If against civil broils barrack-rules still must preach,
And our troops rule the roast, but in figure of speech,
Then surely wc 're bound our mess-bugles to teach
To play "Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And " Blow the Old English Boiled Beef! "
WThat's the odds if at Bouilli the soldier looks blue ?
' lis the rule of the service, and can't be broke through.
Against roast, frv, or bake Colonel North in a stew
Would cry, " Where's the Boiled Beef of Old England,
Oh, where 'a the Old English Boiled Beef ?"
What with those leather collars, their throttles that lock,
And those weary camp-kettles, their hunger that mock,
Our poor British soldiers must, surely hate stock,
And sing, " Blow the Boiled Beef of Old England,
Keep up the Old English Boiled Beef.
At huge cost let recruits still be drilled, dressed, and taugnt,
To have them die off twice as fast as they ought,
Let General Boutine still set reason at nought,
And sing, " Oh, the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And " Oh, the Old English Boiled Beef!"
By all means let our soldiers be served, in the way,
That famed Dr. Kitch'ner said cucumbers may,
First dress 'em with care, and then throw them awar,
And sing, " Oh, the Boiled Beef of Old England,"
And " Oh, the Old English Boiled Beef! "