DOI issue:
November 28, 1863
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.16872#0233
222
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[November 28, 1863.
HOW, WHEN, AND WHERE?
OR, THE MODERN TOURIST'S GUIDE TO THE CONTINENT.
he Poetical Tourist will
make a point of walking
along the Lauter-brunnen
Road, only stopping at the
Castle of Unspunnen, the
reputed residence of the
amiable but mistakenly im-
pulsive Manfred, to call for
Mr. Phelps. Somebody
writing concerning this
Castle has observed, that,
“ from its position in front
of the high Alps, Lord
Byron must have had it
in his eye.” That the
noble Poet, not being ex-
empted from the ills to
which all flesh is heir,
might, have had at some
time or another a stye in
his eye is probable, that
he ever had a castle in it
is simply impossible. A
Cockney Tourist, however,
actually observed that, “ If Lord Byron ’ad a stye in the heye,
be might ’ave ’ad a castle in the ’air.” The Legend of the Castle of
Unspunnen is a very touching one, and will be sung to you by any
peasant for a mere song. The following is a translation adapted to the
well-known and once exceedingly popular air, Villikins and his Dinah:—
THE LEGEND OP IDA THE BOLD BARON’S CHILD.
Old Buskard the Baron, the last of his race.
Had a very big body, and very red face.
That he came of a right Royal Stock, some suppose.
Prom the purple he constantly wore on his nose.
Singing: tooral li, tooral, &c.
Then he bolted the door and he locked it outside,
“You shall never come out to be that Rudolph’s bride;
Then he kicked all his servants impartial/ee.
Till the menials each felt like a vassal at sea.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
While the Baron was a-swearing just like anythink,
Rudolph, at her window saw Miss Ida wink,
He squeezed through the iron bars, being but thin;
While the Baron “ let out,” he was being let in.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral I da.
I
In Unspunnen Castle,this Baron did dwell,
He had but one daughter, a werry fine Swiss gal,
Her name it was Ida, with a fortune that seems
A whole heap o’ money when told in centimes.
Singing: tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
Said the Baron one day, in a very stern voice,
“ 1 want you to marry the man of my choice.”
Says she, “ I can’t do it,” says the Baron, “Por why ? ”
“’Cos,” says she, “ I love Rudolph,” says the Baron, “My I—
—da,” tooral I, tooral I, tooral I da.
When the Baron heard this he was furious and riled,
And he bullied his daughter who patiently smiled,
Which annoyed him so much, that he hit at her crown
And u-pon a feather bed he knocked Ida down.
Tooral 1, tooral 1, tooral i da.
To Zahringen the fond loviers ran away,
And the Baron waged war upon Rudolph next day,
It lasted some time, as they went on this plan.
Each alternately fought and alternately ran.
Tooral I, tooral 1, tooral I da.
At the end of two years, p’raps, or rather before,
The Baron one night heard a knock at his door,
Sharp as hit with the stick that the Scotch use at “ Golf,”
It was Mister and Missis and Master Rudolph.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral I da.
Then his Daughter knelt down, and said she, “’I’m a Ma’;
Then held up an infant, “ so like Grandpapa! ”
And the Baron, who had cf real feeling no lack,
Pelt hysterica passio all up his back.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
“Oh, bless you, my Ida, my Rudolph and Boy ! ”
Said the Baron ; and all from that moment was Joy !
And they wrote ’neath the crest that belongs to their kin,
“Love locked out of doors by the window gets in.”
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
So much for the Baron and his fail- daughter Ida.
LETTER PROM THE BISHOP OP ROCHESTER.
Dear Dr. Punch, Banbury Palace, Chelmsford.
1 am bound to testify to the gentlemanly character of the re-
monstrances which you sometimes i hink fit to address to myself and
other dignitaries. But. 1 am grieved to notice a departure, last week,
from your ordinary courtesy.
You must be aware that I am not a Hebrew scholar, for I stated that
fact whi-n I put down Dr. Colenso.
Yet last week you headed an article with what I know is Hebrew,
because I have compared the letters with the alphabet in the beginning
of my Parkhurst’s Lexicon.
I am willing to believe, however, that you did not intend to annoy
me, and having protested against this blemish upon a very beautiful
article about iMiss Bateman,
I am, your faithful friend,
Dr. Punch. Joseph Cotton Wigram.
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.
[November 28, 1863.
HOW, WHEN, AND WHERE?
OR, THE MODERN TOURIST'S GUIDE TO THE CONTINENT.
he Poetical Tourist will
make a point of walking
along the Lauter-brunnen
Road, only stopping at the
Castle of Unspunnen, the
reputed residence of the
amiable but mistakenly im-
pulsive Manfred, to call for
Mr. Phelps. Somebody
writing concerning this
Castle has observed, that,
“ from its position in front
of the high Alps, Lord
Byron must have had it
in his eye.” That the
noble Poet, not being ex-
empted from the ills to
which all flesh is heir,
might, have had at some
time or another a stye in
his eye is probable, that
he ever had a castle in it
is simply impossible. A
Cockney Tourist, however,
actually observed that, “ If Lord Byron ’ad a stye in the heye,
be might ’ave ’ad a castle in the ’air.” The Legend of the Castle of
Unspunnen is a very touching one, and will be sung to you by any
peasant for a mere song. The following is a translation adapted to the
well-known and once exceedingly popular air, Villikins and his Dinah:—
THE LEGEND OP IDA THE BOLD BARON’S CHILD.
Old Buskard the Baron, the last of his race.
Had a very big body, and very red face.
That he came of a right Royal Stock, some suppose.
Prom the purple he constantly wore on his nose.
Singing: tooral li, tooral, &c.
Then he bolted the door and he locked it outside,
“You shall never come out to be that Rudolph’s bride;
Then he kicked all his servants impartial/ee.
Till the menials each felt like a vassal at sea.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
While the Baron was a-swearing just like anythink,
Rudolph, at her window saw Miss Ida wink,
He squeezed through the iron bars, being but thin;
While the Baron “ let out,” he was being let in.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral I da.
I
In Unspunnen Castle,this Baron did dwell,
He had but one daughter, a werry fine Swiss gal,
Her name it was Ida, with a fortune that seems
A whole heap o’ money when told in centimes.
Singing: tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
Said the Baron one day, in a very stern voice,
“ 1 want you to marry the man of my choice.”
Says she, “ I can’t do it,” says the Baron, “Por why ? ”
“’Cos,” says she, “ I love Rudolph,” says the Baron, “My I—
—da,” tooral I, tooral I, tooral I da.
When the Baron heard this he was furious and riled,
And he bullied his daughter who patiently smiled,
Which annoyed him so much, that he hit at her crown
And u-pon a feather bed he knocked Ida down.
Tooral 1, tooral 1, tooral i da.
To Zahringen the fond loviers ran away,
And the Baron waged war upon Rudolph next day,
It lasted some time, as they went on this plan.
Each alternately fought and alternately ran.
Tooral I, tooral 1, tooral I da.
At the end of two years, p’raps, or rather before,
The Baron one night heard a knock at his door,
Sharp as hit with the stick that the Scotch use at “ Golf,”
It was Mister and Missis and Master Rudolph.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral I da.
Then his Daughter knelt down, and said she, “’I’m a Ma’;
Then held up an infant, “ so like Grandpapa! ”
And the Baron, who had cf real feeling no lack,
Pelt hysterica passio all up his back.
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
“Oh, bless you, my Ida, my Rudolph and Boy ! ”
Said the Baron ; and all from that moment was Joy !
And they wrote ’neath the crest that belongs to their kin,
“Love locked out of doors by the window gets in.”
Tooral I, tooral I, tooral 1 da.
So much for the Baron and his fail- daughter Ida.
LETTER PROM THE BISHOP OP ROCHESTER.
Dear Dr. Punch, Banbury Palace, Chelmsford.
1 am bound to testify to the gentlemanly character of the re-
monstrances which you sometimes i hink fit to address to myself and
other dignitaries. But. 1 am grieved to notice a departure, last week,
from your ordinary courtesy.
You must be aware that I am not a Hebrew scholar, for I stated that
fact whi-n I put down Dr. Colenso.
Yet last week you headed an article with what I know is Hebrew,
because I have compared the letters with the alphabet in the beginning
of my Parkhurst’s Lexicon.
I am willing to believe, however, that you did not intend to annoy
me, and having protested against this blemish upon a very beautiful
article about iMiss Bateman,
I am, your faithful friend,
Dr. Punch. Joseph Cotton Wigram.