DOI Heft:
July 28, 1860
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16866#0048
40
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
[Jolt 28, I860.
THE SHAM FIGHT.
No. 2. “ / wish this fellow behind me would ‘ lock up.' "
No. 1. “ Ah, well, I'm all right, I dropped a Charry into my rear rank man's rific before we came on the ground.''
YE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS OF 1860.
To Canterbury’s festival from Southwerk’s Tabard poured,
No widow of three husbands, no miller, friar, or lord,
No Knight of Alexandria, no clerk of Oxenforde.
Still hundreds of staunch pilgrims are journeying towards the shriue,
Not on jennet, mule, or palfrey, but along the Kentish line;
And their talk is not of martyrs, but of fleece, and flitch, and chine.
From deep green valleys on the Wharfe, from Devon’s quiet lanes,
From the breezy wolds of Brocklesby, and Wiltshire’s chalky plains,—
Men of eagle-eye and delicate touch, and calm far-seeing brains.
Ye Colonel Towneley is there—who taught the Warlaby Knight to
yield.
In the days of his Windsor and Bridesmaid might,—with Culshaw
to bear his shield :
His arms two butterflies quartered, with gules on an azure field.
In vain ’gainst his Royal Butterfly four Princes in conclave met,
Fortune has smiled on the roan once more; and his buxom bride
Rosette
Has baffled the spells of the fair Queen 2\lab, and beat Lady Pigot’s pet.
Hard by her “the Nestor of Shorthorns” sits (on a tub or a truss) at
ease,
And countless disciples around him flock, t,o hear how he likes the
decrees,
Ne’er lived a rarer judge of a beast on the banks of the stately Tees.
Grundy from Rochdale has come with his Faith, determined no
fight to shirk;
Wood Rose is there to boast for herself of descent from the famed
Grand Turk ;
Ay! little did Captain Gunter wot of the thorns in a rose which
lurk.
But first and second the Captain stood, with his beautiful Duchess
twins,
Liverpool judges indorsed the white, but orthodox roan now wins;
And Bedfordshire was a capital third with Claret from Clifton bins.
See near them the mottle-faced beef machines, from Hereford
pastures sent,
Shorthorns may boast of their pedigree ;—“ these gentlemen pay the
rent:”
But where, oh! where are the champion beasts of slow, self-satisfied
Kent ?
Here too are the plums of “the juicy red line,” from Turner and
Quartley’s store;
Lancashire rules supreme with its white, and Suffolk with its black
boar ;
And chesnuts from Cretingham Rookery go, as in olden time, to the
fore.
As pure in descent as a Booth or a Bates, stood Sanpay’s Leicester
array;
Shropshire is proud of its Patentee ; aud eighteen strong to the fray
Marched Jonas Webb with his Southdown tups, aud Richmond can’t
bid him Nay.
And the lesson these Royal pilgrims teach, is “Put some life in your
shire,
As batsmen and hoppers, you’ve scored right well,—but Romney
Marsh should aspire;
Just hew up for faggots your turn-wrest ploughs, and brighten your
“ Kentish fire.”
Conundrum for Constituents.
Why is the House of Commons like the House of Correction ?
Because the labour performed there is hard and mostly unproductive.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
[Jolt 28, I860.
THE SHAM FIGHT.
No. 2. “ / wish this fellow behind me would ‘ lock up.' "
No. 1. “ Ah, well, I'm all right, I dropped a Charry into my rear rank man's rific before we came on the ground.''
YE CANTERBURY PILGRIMS OF 1860.
To Canterbury’s festival from Southwerk’s Tabard poured,
No widow of three husbands, no miller, friar, or lord,
No Knight of Alexandria, no clerk of Oxenforde.
Still hundreds of staunch pilgrims are journeying towards the shriue,
Not on jennet, mule, or palfrey, but along the Kentish line;
And their talk is not of martyrs, but of fleece, and flitch, and chine.
From deep green valleys on the Wharfe, from Devon’s quiet lanes,
From the breezy wolds of Brocklesby, and Wiltshire’s chalky plains,—
Men of eagle-eye and delicate touch, and calm far-seeing brains.
Ye Colonel Towneley is there—who taught the Warlaby Knight to
yield.
In the days of his Windsor and Bridesmaid might,—with Culshaw
to bear his shield :
His arms two butterflies quartered, with gules on an azure field.
In vain ’gainst his Royal Butterfly four Princes in conclave met,
Fortune has smiled on the roan once more; and his buxom bride
Rosette
Has baffled the spells of the fair Queen 2\lab, and beat Lady Pigot’s pet.
Hard by her “the Nestor of Shorthorns” sits (on a tub or a truss) at
ease,
And countless disciples around him flock, t,o hear how he likes the
decrees,
Ne’er lived a rarer judge of a beast on the banks of the stately Tees.
Grundy from Rochdale has come with his Faith, determined no
fight to shirk;
Wood Rose is there to boast for herself of descent from the famed
Grand Turk ;
Ay! little did Captain Gunter wot of the thorns in a rose which
lurk.
But first and second the Captain stood, with his beautiful Duchess
twins,
Liverpool judges indorsed the white, but orthodox roan now wins;
And Bedfordshire was a capital third with Claret from Clifton bins.
See near them the mottle-faced beef machines, from Hereford
pastures sent,
Shorthorns may boast of their pedigree ;—“ these gentlemen pay the
rent:”
But where, oh! where are the champion beasts of slow, self-satisfied
Kent ?
Here too are the plums of “the juicy red line,” from Turner and
Quartley’s store;
Lancashire rules supreme with its white, and Suffolk with its black
boar ;
And chesnuts from Cretingham Rookery go, as in olden time, to the
fore.
As pure in descent as a Booth or a Bates, stood Sanpay’s Leicester
array;
Shropshire is proud of its Patentee ; aud eighteen strong to the fray
Marched Jonas Webb with his Southdown tups, aud Richmond can’t
bid him Nay.
And the lesson these Royal pilgrims teach, is “Put some life in your
shire,
As batsmen and hoppers, you’ve scored right well,—but Romney
Marsh should aspire;
Just hew up for faggots your turn-wrest ploughs, and brighten your
“ Kentish fire.”
Conundrum for Constituents.
Why is the House of Commons like the House of Correction ?
Because the labour performed there is hard and mostly unproductive.