Punch (60.1871)

82

INNOCENCE.

Husband. "Your First Day with Hounds ! I'm afraid it'll be a Blank Day, my dear!"

Young Wife (shocked). " A--Day ! 0 Charles, don't Swear ! I'm sure it's Delightful ! Just now, when you were

Talking to that Old Gentleman in the Wood, I saw a little Rabbit, and I tried to Show some of the Dogs where it
had Gone ; and, Charles, the Man in the Cap came up and Beat them, and Looked so Cross at me ! I could not help
its Escaping ! "

SONGS OE SIXPENCE.

A Trifle from Your Own Cockalorum, Dyngwell the Dragoon. %* Very
much adapted by Mm from, a German festive chant, and sung with
much applame by Yours Truly before the Emperor, the Hereditary ,

Grand, Singymartngy, Bizzy, §c, during recent events at Yersni'.U st \ llegardy this calm, peaceful torrid,

Let who will go in for the Forum,
And be of the Law quite a lamp,
The choice of Your Own Cockalorum
Is, give me the swagger and camp.
Chorus—" Drink about," &c.

Come round me, my gay Cockalorums,

And list to your own Militaire,
Who '11 stand you a dozen of jorums,
And sing you a rum-ti-tum air.

Chorus (quite the gay German)—
Drink about, drink about,
Nothing to think about;
Drink about,
Drink about—•
Long live the Oueen !

(Repeat ad lib.)

This Light-hearted Soldier is joyful,

As long as there's plenty of stuff;
So till ev'ry glass, my dear boy, full,

And chaunt me the " Croiv and the Chough."
Chorus—"Drink about," &c. (as before).

Till past any time we will sit up,

When empty is every stoup,
Then let us go in for a tittup,—■

This Warrior's out on the scoop.

Chorus—'1 Drink about," &c. (as you was).

Ach ! while the pale student of Aachen

Is grinding away at his book,
This Noble young Marquis is larkin',

And—"Where are we now ? " says the Dook

This anti-macassary hair,
Though trouble may bustle him horrid,
Yet, when the bell rings, he 's all there !
Chorus—" Drink about," &c.

Then here's to that bootiful houri,
The Lovely Louisey, Princess :

Just come to Your Own for a dowry,
And nuggets are yours, nothing less.
Chorus—"Drink about," &c.

And here's to ourselves, Cockalorum—
That's me, who my country adorns!
Bibyty ! Bibyty ! More rum !
A Health to the Festive Young Lornes
Loyal and Matrimonial Chorus—
" Drink about," &c.

A Change for the Worse.

La France says—" The Prussians have no right to march through
Paris. The Prussians have not taken Paris—it is Famine." Let us
hope, if La France is right, that Famine mayn't insist on marching
into the city, instead of the Prussians. She is too near the gates to
be pleasant, already.

Gratifying Advertisement.

THE THEATRE OF WAR is Closed for the present. A Peace is
_ _..„ ... in preparation which we hope will have an unprecedented run.