Punch (60.1871)

80

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [February 25, isn.

GOSSIPS.

First Gael (just come ashore from the Rerriri FushwC). " Hoo's a' wt' you, Donal' ? Hae ye ony News yonder ? "

Second Gael. "Na, I hear Naething,— oo, aye,—they were sayin' Mac Callum Mohr's Son's coin' to get Marri't !1

First Gael. "Ay! ay! An' wha's he go in' to get Marri't on?"

Second Gael. '' Ye ken the Qheen—e-ch ?"

First Gael. "Ay—a Ken the Queen."

Second Gael. "A—weel, it's on her young Dochter he's goin' to get Marri't."
First Gael. " E—ch ! Dod ! the Queen mttn be the Prood Woman lit"

"POOR JOHN/'

(As he appears in the eyes of Europe.)

Pocket your buffets, Master Bull !
Give it him well, Herr Prussian;

Abuse him, do, mon cher Mossoo;
Tear up his bonds, ray Russian !

He '11 smile on snubs, with force if backed ;
Bear all, to stave off strife;

Put up with anything, in fact-
Poor John!—for a quiet life.

Though bete comtne tout, he's well-to-do,

Thanks to his Channel ditch:
He sows and spins, trades, works and wins,

By shopkeeping grows rich.
Once, with a foe, 'twas word and blow;

Now, there's the till to guard;
Who strives, must spend ; he's got no friend;

Who likes may hit him hard.

What praise, if, rich, he acts as sich,

Piles his gifts high as Alp-hill—
Best ambulance-appliances,

Splint, bandage, saw and scalpel,
Sends chloroform to deaden pain,

And lint to plug foramina,
And Liebig's Extract to sustain,

And Port to keep up stamina ?

If Homo est, harnani nil

A se alienum putat,"—
Above all Gallic humans whom

Teutonic humans shoot at.
If " Tros Tyriusque -'—Prussor French

He holds at no discrimen;
Will help tuck either in a trench,

Or pull up on Death's limen.

Since starved French peasants to relieve,
This Bull on Bullock blundered,

What if his Daily News has been
" Subscribed another hundred" ?

Ji Cross and Mlldmay, pity-fired,
Have to this Bullock yoked them ?

If night and day no work has tired,
• No snubbing off has choked them ?

If haggard, hopeless Jacques Bonhomjce

Sighs by an unsown furrow—
For der Herr Preusser has ploughed there,

And his share sheareth thorough—
Straight there is Bull, top-boots and all,

Has tapped both poke and pocket,
Finds seed for field, for shed and stall,

Finds hoof and horn to stock it.

When Paris comes to end of her

Hippophagous resources,
When rats tail off, and cats, for hares,

Can run no more their courses ;