Punch (37.1859)

August 20, 1859.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

73

SONG TO SCTJESIONISTS—BY A HAND OF THE “ RTJBY.”

I Hopes I loves most folks ashore.
Likewise most folks afloat.

But I’ve least pity for the sick
Aboard a Margate boat.

And when I hears ’em bawling Steward,
And sees ’em sad and pale,

I says, says I, my piteous coves,

Why don’t you take the Bail ?

The Rail she runs from London Bridge,
To the Marine Parade,

The fares is fixed uncommon low.

For clerks and folks in trade :

In fact, it’s cheaper nor the boat,

That’s clear to any Moke,

Because you cannot spend your browns
In brandy, beer, and smoke.

A man’s a Nass that’s sick at sea.

At him I do deride,

But women is a tender flower,

And delicate inside;

And when I sees ’em stoop their heads,
Unable to contain,

I feels inclined to kick the brutes
That brought ’em on the main.

Their little small contrairy ways
Which they delight to show,

As over to the windard side
When ill they always go,

And safe to rush where Neptune’s splash
Has made the seats a slop.

These fads of theirs amuses me
When fetching of my mop.

I pities them, and pities more
The little children small,

As never ought for to be brought
Aboard a boat at all.

And when they reaches, pretty dears,

And howls in grief and woe,

I’m savage with their parents, like,
Which brings them to be so.

Undoing of the good they done
By wisiting the Sea:

But many folks is precious Mokes,

As it appears to me.

Our Capting’s obserwation should
Be constant kep in mind,

“ Economy as makes us sick
Is of a spurious kind.”—Jim Swobbeu.

i

AN ARTIST AND A BABY.

If any confirmation were wanted of the
truth that “ men are but children of a larger
growth,” it would, we think, be found in the
following advertisement, which appeared the
other day in the second column of the
Times:—

TEN POUNDS REWARD.—LOST, by an

artist, on Saturday, between Charles Street, St.
James’s Square, and Coventry Street, a CORAL
BROOCH, set in gold, with a coral and gold drop,
representing three grapes ; 'a coral hand, holding two
small coral charms—a pig and a chair, is attached
to the brooch by a coral and gold chain. Whoever
will bring it to 5, Cradle Street, St. James’s Square,
shall receive the above reward.

As the reader may suppose, we have altered
the address: partly for the reason that we
don’t wish to be personal, and partly because
we think that the word wdiicli we have sub-
stituted, is slightly more appropriate than
that which we suppress. It must, we think,
be viewed as a sign of second childhood, when
we find a grown up baby with a coral for a
plaything: for that’s the only use to which
we fancy that the corals above-mentioned
could be put. Why such things are called
“charms” we are too ignorant to know, and
too hot to try and guess. If we look at them
as ornaments, there seems nothing very charm-
ing in a “pig” and a “chair;” and, not
being of “the faithful,” we have no faith in
such relics as being capable of “charming”
in a superstitious sense. A brooch is not a
common thing for men to wear; and had
not the word “artist” been put in the ad-
vertisement, we might have thought some
“charming woman” was the owner of these
charms, in which case, of course our sym-
pathy would have stopped our criticism. But
we must confess, we feel no pity for a man
for losing what was neither of ornament nor
use to him. Had this artist lost his cutty,
he would have had our instant sympathy, but
we have none to throw away on him for losing
what by rights should never have belonged
to him. An artist who is capable of wearing
coral charms, we really almost think would
try to grow a mauve moustache.

The Strength of the Sex.

A Woman’s tongue is a sharp weapon that
she should never draw excepting in her self-
defence, and then only after the strongest
provocation. That weapon, sharp as it is, is
never so effective, as when tempered with
mercy.—The Hermit of the Haymarket.

A BYRONIC LAY.

Election ! Election! thy Tarum afar
Gives hope to the needy, and promise of war;

All dodgers and debtors arise at the note,*

Attorney, house agent, each scamp with a vote.

Gh, who is more proud than the scamp with a vote,
With his dirty camese and his greasy capote ?

To the pound or elsewhere all his cattle may stray,
While he drives on his cart for five guineas a day.

Let no Briton for nothing his vote ever give.

But for months by its means like a fighting-cock live ;
Nor yet in the traffic his vengeance forego,

Unbribed by his friend, he can vote for his foe.

The clubs they send forth an industrious race,

With pockets well lined to continue the chase;

But though heavy the purses, they ’re empty before
Th’ election is won, and the contest is o’er.

* Query, Bank of England.—Printer’s Devil.

3

Eor the freemen of Glo’ster, who dwell by the waves.

Let them know that the Britons will never be slaves—
That to win a close race,they must well grease the oar.
Sticking out to the last for one Fiver more.

They need not the pleasures that riches supply,

Their votes they shall win what the Member must buy—
Shall win from the tap the long-flowing ale,

The gin and the whiskey, brown brandy and pale.

Remember the moment when Aylesbury fell!

The shrieks of the conquered, the conquerors’ yell,

The votes that they bought, and the voters they squared—
What a number of ponies might Wentworth have spared!

Again we shall hear the sweet sound from afar—

Election’s alarum give promise of war;

Ye Members, who met us with Fivers before,

Must meet us with Fifties, or meet us no more!

An Unpardonable Offence.—There is one thing that the most
successful man rarely succeeds in—and that is in making others forgive
him his success.