DOI issue:
July 9, 1859
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16864#0033
A CHAPTER ON SLANG.
ow debased is that tongue, once
our glory and pride;
By a torrent of Slang how re-
morselessly dyed;
As this Punch has observed with
a patriot/s pang,
He devotes to his country this
Chapter on Slang.
To its champions and friends,
from the small to the big,
Brom my Loud Bobby Caudle
to little Bill Pbigg ; _
Punch addresses these lines, and
he hopes they ’ll amend,
When he holds up to laughter
“ onr dashing young friend.”
Our dashing young friend of to-
day never tells
The hotel he puts up at, or
house where he dwells.
Of his Diggins perchance we ’ll
hear something about,
Or his Crib, or Concern, Sir, or
where he Hangs out.
Our friend has no pocket, he
may have a Bob,
Though it holds not a shilling, it may hold a Bob;
It has not a sixpence, or any coin in,
Though it may have a Tizzy, a Bender, or Tin.
Our friend of to-day has no watch to his name,
’Tis a Ticker, or Turnip ; if wrong, it goes Lame :
What the hour is he knows not, though able to say
How the Enemy goes, or what ’$ His time of day.
Our friend knows of nothing that’s strange, it is Bum;
His is not a companion, he’s always a Chum;
Though his Chum is not staunch, vet he may be a Brick,
And though young men are fast, all things else so are Slick.
Our friend knows of nothing a plague, it’s a Baw,
Though he drinks brandy Neat, he has ne’er had it raw;
His father’s no father, but out of a joke,
He’s the Guv’ner, Old Buffer, Old Cock, or Old Bloke.
Our friend of to-day has no coat, it’s a Tog,
And he ne’er dresses well, though he Goes the whole hog,
He is then just the Cheddar, the Cut, Cheese, or Style,
Though his head bears a Bollinger, Beaver, or Tile.
Our friend prone to vices you never may see,
Though he goes on the Loose, or the Cut, or the Spree,
Bor brutally drunk, he’s as Screwed as old Nick,
And you ’ll find him next morning, though Seedy not sick.
Our friend of to-day sees a Ivid, not a child,
And he never gets steady, he Draws the thing mild;
A jest should be Knocked off, Cheesed, Shut up, or Stashed,
And a man’s broken nose, is his Claret-jug squashed.
Our. friend never suffers a fraud or a cheat,
He is Gammon’d, or Sold, or Let into it sweet;
He never retreats, though he Mizzles it quick,
Or he Slopes, Bolts, or Hooks it, or else Cuts his stick.
Our friend of to-day is not calm, he is Cool,
And a man who’s not wise, must be Soft, or a Bool;
Bor a scolding, he always Gomes in for a wigging,
A Bowing, a Jawing, a Lipping, or Bigging.
Mr. Punch thinks it high time his Shop to shut up,
He commends these remarks to each Darling young pup,
Who in slang words deals largely, and thinks it Dem rare.
Like our snobs, nobs, and footpads, to slang, and to swear.
A Sting in a Title.
By way ol reprimand, the sarcastic nature of which we do not
exactly understand, Count Gyulai is to be created for his misdeeds,
The Ban ol Croatia.” . If the desire was to stigmatise the Count,
wny not have called him in plain language at once, instead of the Ban
of Croatia, “ The Bane of Austria ? ”
ONE MORE BOMBA.
Le Roi Bomba esl mort: vive le Roi Bomba! Such might well be
the exclamation of Neapolitan loyalty. The Naples Correspondent of
the Morning Post writes word that—
“ The new King of tlie Two Sicilies inaugurates his Government by continuing
the system of the late King. Arrests are every day made in order to intimidate
and prevent any public manifestation of sympathy for the war of Italian inde-
pendence. To form part of any demonstration ; to raise a hat when the now
Piedmontese Envoy passes ; to talk of the victories of the allied armies ; to wear in
the button-hole a pink, white and red, which with the green stalk would together
form the tricolor, and a thousand other futile causes, is sufficient to cause the
offender to be thrown into a dungeon.”
Thus “ Amuratii au Amuratii succeeds, and Bomba Bomba,” to
take a slight liberty with the mighty line of Shakspeake. The son
takes after the father, with the addition of being apparently somewhat
deranged. Bampant and outrageous insolence, ridiculous in its extra-
vagance, on the part of a flunkey, is generally servile imitation. Like
master like man. According to the authority already quoted:—
“ The prefect of the police insults the prisoners by telling them that the liberators
of Italy, Victob Emmanuel, and Louis Napoleon, will soon come and release them
from their cells.”
This functionary might be thought to have taken the historical
character of our Judge Jefferies for his model, were there not reason
for supposing that the madness of mockery above instanced had been
copied from the contemporary pattern of*his own king. Bomba the
Second, if the subjoined statement—from the same source as the
foregoing—is true, must be as mad as any dog in these dog-days.
“ Filangiebi and other generals have visited the forts of the city, and prepared
a plan of defence for the kingdom ; and from remarks which dropped from one ol
the Generals, it appears that the King has it in contemplation to attack the French
troops at Rome, and put down the insurrection in the Romagna. This surmise is
confirmed by the departure of nine battalions of troops commanded by General de
Benedictis. The ambulances have been ordered, as well as the military chest.”
The strait-waistcoat ought to be ordered, and the cold douche, for
the King of Naples. Perhaps, however, not the cold douche. The
madness of his Majesty may be so thoroughly canine that it would be
only aggravated by that remedy. The Brench troops at Borne are
sleeping dogs, which any small puppy but a very rabid one would be
only too glad to let lie. If young Bomba really does entertain the
design of attacking them, he must be in a desperate state of hydro-
phobia. It is to be hoped that he has no counsellor wise enough to try
to dissuade him from attempting that frantic enterprise, and possessed
of influence enough over him to induce him to abandon it. Happy
will it be for his subjects if he is invincibly bent on courting his own
political destruction, and getting the Bourbon dynasty improved from
off the face of the earth.
A MELANCHOLY VIEW OE MARRIAGE.
Having mentioned that the Bishop of Gibraltar, the other day,
held a confirmation in the chapel of the British Embassy at Constan-
tinople, the correspondent of the Post at that city says :—
“ On the same day Sip. Henry and Lady Bulwer were present at the marriage
of Prince Jean Carafa, and Mplle. Caroline Durand. His Excellency addressed
a few words of encouragement and advice to the young married couple after the
ceremony.”
Very kind, and as far as advice went, useful, no doubt, was the
discourse which Sir Henry Bulwer was good enough to address to
the youthful pair. They may have profited by the advice of an
experienced diplomatist, but in what way could they have required his i
encouragement ? Are we to regard them as a poor young Prince and
Princess, beginning the world with nothing to depend upon but their
own exertions, and with the prospect of a large family, whose cradles
the Prince will have, in the first three or four instances at least, to
rock ? Did the Princess want to be inspired with hope in the prospect
of keeping a mangle, and the Prince to be persuaded to take a cheerful
view of having to turn it ? The difficulty of making both ends meet
is one which a newly-married bride and bridegroom uniting youth and
inexperience with slender means, may be materially helped to surmount
by a little cheering exhortation, but there cannot well be conceived
any other which they are likely to encounter, and not likely to get over
perfectly well without anybody’s encouragement. Perhaps, however,
the immense amount of justice which has to be administered by the
Probate and Divorce Court has suggested a view of matrimony so
gloomy as to constitute for a young couple just married a need to be
emboldened to expect domestic happiness.
On the Advertising Pillar at Hyde Park Corner.
Though, to those whose profession’s to advertise stuff.
It’s useful for drawing the tanners.
Good taste must object to a permanent puff.
And call it a piece of bad “ Manners.”
22
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[July 9, 1859.
ow debased is that tongue, once
our glory and pride;
By a torrent of Slang how re-
morselessly dyed;
As this Punch has observed with
a patriot/s pang,
He devotes to his country this
Chapter on Slang.
To its champions and friends,
from the small to the big,
Brom my Loud Bobby Caudle
to little Bill Pbigg ; _
Punch addresses these lines, and
he hopes they ’ll amend,
When he holds up to laughter
“ onr dashing young friend.”
Our dashing young friend of to-
day never tells
The hotel he puts up at, or
house where he dwells.
Of his Diggins perchance we ’ll
hear something about,
Or his Crib, or Concern, Sir, or
where he Hangs out.
Our friend has no pocket, he
may have a Bob,
Though it holds not a shilling, it may hold a Bob;
It has not a sixpence, or any coin in,
Though it may have a Tizzy, a Bender, or Tin.
Our friend of to-day has no watch to his name,
’Tis a Ticker, or Turnip ; if wrong, it goes Lame :
What the hour is he knows not, though able to say
How the Enemy goes, or what ’$ His time of day.
Our friend knows of nothing that’s strange, it is Bum;
His is not a companion, he’s always a Chum;
Though his Chum is not staunch, vet he may be a Brick,
And though young men are fast, all things else so are Slick.
Our friend knows of nothing a plague, it’s a Baw,
Though he drinks brandy Neat, he has ne’er had it raw;
His father’s no father, but out of a joke,
He’s the Guv’ner, Old Buffer, Old Cock, or Old Bloke.
Our friend of to-day has no coat, it’s a Tog,
And he ne’er dresses well, though he Goes the whole hog,
He is then just the Cheddar, the Cut, Cheese, or Style,
Though his head bears a Bollinger, Beaver, or Tile.
Our friend prone to vices you never may see,
Though he goes on the Loose, or the Cut, or the Spree,
Bor brutally drunk, he’s as Screwed as old Nick,
And you ’ll find him next morning, though Seedy not sick.
Our friend of to-day sees a Ivid, not a child,
And he never gets steady, he Draws the thing mild;
A jest should be Knocked off, Cheesed, Shut up, or Stashed,
And a man’s broken nose, is his Claret-jug squashed.
Our. friend never suffers a fraud or a cheat,
He is Gammon’d, or Sold, or Let into it sweet;
He never retreats, though he Mizzles it quick,
Or he Slopes, Bolts, or Hooks it, or else Cuts his stick.
Our friend of to-day is not calm, he is Cool,
And a man who’s not wise, must be Soft, or a Bool;
Bor a scolding, he always Gomes in for a wigging,
A Bowing, a Jawing, a Lipping, or Bigging.
Mr. Punch thinks it high time his Shop to shut up,
He commends these remarks to each Darling young pup,
Who in slang words deals largely, and thinks it Dem rare.
Like our snobs, nobs, and footpads, to slang, and to swear.
A Sting in a Title.
By way ol reprimand, the sarcastic nature of which we do not
exactly understand, Count Gyulai is to be created for his misdeeds,
The Ban ol Croatia.” . If the desire was to stigmatise the Count,
wny not have called him in plain language at once, instead of the Ban
of Croatia, “ The Bane of Austria ? ”
ONE MORE BOMBA.
Le Roi Bomba esl mort: vive le Roi Bomba! Such might well be
the exclamation of Neapolitan loyalty. The Naples Correspondent of
the Morning Post writes word that—
“ The new King of tlie Two Sicilies inaugurates his Government by continuing
the system of the late King. Arrests are every day made in order to intimidate
and prevent any public manifestation of sympathy for the war of Italian inde-
pendence. To form part of any demonstration ; to raise a hat when the now
Piedmontese Envoy passes ; to talk of the victories of the allied armies ; to wear in
the button-hole a pink, white and red, which with the green stalk would together
form the tricolor, and a thousand other futile causes, is sufficient to cause the
offender to be thrown into a dungeon.”
Thus “ Amuratii au Amuratii succeeds, and Bomba Bomba,” to
take a slight liberty with the mighty line of Shakspeake. The son
takes after the father, with the addition of being apparently somewhat
deranged. Bampant and outrageous insolence, ridiculous in its extra-
vagance, on the part of a flunkey, is generally servile imitation. Like
master like man. According to the authority already quoted:—
“ The prefect of the police insults the prisoners by telling them that the liberators
of Italy, Victob Emmanuel, and Louis Napoleon, will soon come and release them
from their cells.”
This functionary might be thought to have taken the historical
character of our Judge Jefferies for his model, were there not reason
for supposing that the madness of mockery above instanced had been
copied from the contemporary pattern of*his own king. Bomba the
Second, if the subjoined statement—from the same source as the
foregoing—is true, must be as mad as any dog in these dog-days.
“ Filangiebi and other generals have visited the forts of the city, and prepared
a plan of defence for the kingdom ; and from remarks which dropped from one ol
the Generals, it appears that the King has it in contemplation to attack the French
troops at Rome, and put down the insurrection in the Romagna. This surmise is
confirmed by the departure of nine battalions of troops commanded by General de
Benedictis. The ambulances have been ordered, as well as the military chest.”
The strait-waistcoat ought to be ordered, and the cold douche, for
the King of Naples. Perhaps, however, not the cold douche. The
madness of his Majesty may be so thoroughly canine that it would be
only aggravated by that remedy. The Brench troops at Borne are
sleeping dogs, which any small puppy but a very rabid one would be
only too glad to let lie. If young Bomba really does entertain the
design of attacking them, he must be in a desperate state of hydro-
phobia. It is to be hoped that he has no counsellor wise enough to try
to dissuade him from attempting that frantic enterprise, and possessed
of influence enough over him to induce him to abandon it. Happy
will it be for his subjects if he is invincibly bent on courting his own
political destruction, and getting the Bourbon dynasty improved from
off the face of the earth.
A MELANCHOLY VIEW OE MARRIAGE.
Having mentioned that the Bishop of Gibraltar, the other day,
held a confirmation in the chapel of the British Embassy at Constan-
tinople, the correspondent of the Post at that city says :—
“ On the same day Sip. Henry and Lady Bulwer were present at the marriage
of Prince Jean Carafa, and Mplle. Caroline Durand. His Excellency addressed
a few words of encouragement and advice to the young married couple after the
ceremony.”
Very kind, and as far as advice went, useful, no doubt, was the
discourse which Sir Henry Bulwer was good enough to address to
the youthful pair. They may have profited by the advice of an
experienced diplomatist, but in what way could they have required his i
encouragement ? Are we to regard them as a poor young Prince and
Princess, beginning the world with nothing to depend upon but their
own exertions, and with the prospect of a large family, whose cradles
the Prince will have, in the first three or four instances at least, to
rock ? Did the Princess want to be inspired with hope in the prospect
of keeping a mangle, and the Prince to be persuaded to take a cheerful
view of having to turn it ? The difficulty of making both ends meet
is one which a newly-married bride and bridegroom uniting youth and
inexperience with slender means, may be materially helped to surmount
by a little cheering exhortation, but there cannot well be conceived
any other which they are likely to encounter, and not likely to get over
perfectly well without anybody’s encouragement. Perhaps, however,
the immense amount of justice which has to be administered by the
Probate and Divorce Court has suggested a view of matrimony so
gloomy as to constitute for a young couple just married a need to be
emboldened to expect domestic happiness.
On the Advertising Pillar at Hyde Park Corner.
Though, to those whose profession’s to advertise stuff.
It’s useful for drawing the tanners.
Good taste must object to a permanent puff.
And call it a piece of bad “ Manners.”
22
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[July 9, 1859.