Punch (50.1866)

March 3, 1866.]

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

85

OUR MONTHLY WEATHER REPORT.

Captain O’Leary tmd Miss Roberts—Report it “Awfully Jolly.” Miss Roberts' Parents—Report it “Something Dreadful.”

LINES BY A CAMBRIDGE ANCIENT MARINER.

ADDRESSED TO HIS UNIVERSITY.

Wish ye, sons of Alma Mater,

Long lost laurels to replace ?

Listen to a stout old Pater,

Once renowned in many a race.

Now, alas ! I’m fat and forty.

And my form grows round to view ;

And my nose is rather “porty,”

But my heart is still light-blue.

’Tis as bad as an emetic.

E’en my ’baccy I refuse,

When T hear that sports athletic,

Interfere with Cambridge crews.

Once a Grecian runner famous,

Scorned to fight his country’s foes ;

And to Greece, as some to Camus,

Caused innumerable woes.

When I hear the voice parental
Cry, “ my youngster shall not row ! ”

Then my wrath is transcendental.

Then my words with vigour flow.

Sires, with hearts of alabaster,

Your stern “ vetos ” yet you’ll rue ;

When ye see a sixth disaster,

Overwhelm your loved light-blue.

But whate’er to Cambridge happen,

Sons of Cam behave like men !

Rally round your royal Cap’n,

King of Lake, and King of Een !

Eortune helps the brave who court her,

Only to yourselves be true;

And perhaps, on Putney’s water,

Victory will crown light-blue.

W7hen your Cox’en cries “ all ready,”

Be alert, dismiss all napping;

Get well forward, all sit steady,

Grasp the oar, avoid all “ capping.”

Shoulders square, backs straight, eyes ever
Fixed upon the back before;

Then all eight, with one endeavour,

Dip at once the bladed oar.

Catch your stroke at the beginning,

Then let, legs with vigour work :

Little hope has he of winning,

Who his “ stretcher” loves to shirk.

Let, your rigid arms, extended,

Be as straight as pokers two ;

And until the stroke is ended,

Pull it, without jerking, through!

Thus all disputations spurning,

Ye, ere many a year has past.

While old Fortune’s wheel is turning,

Victory shall taste at last.

Ere some Ministerial Cox’en,

Finds a cure for Plague of Cattle;

Ye shall triumph over Oxod,

On your watery field of battle.

Argonaut.

To a Correspondent.

A Gentleman troubled with a short memory having acquired the
bad habit of turning down a leaf of a book so as to remember where he
left off, writes to say that he never can recollect a street that he’s only
been in once. How is he to remedy this defect P Very simply: let
him do as he does with his books, turn down a corner.

The Diet of Worms.—Assafcetida and Onions.—See Times of Feb. 10.