Punch (95.1888)

294

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[December 22, 1888.

FEMININE PERVERSITY.

Aunt Betsy. "I wonder, James, at your encouraging young Cadby to be so much with Madeline ! He's a bad Match,

and not a good fellow, I fear !"

Papa. "Confound him, no ! I've given him carte-blanche to come when he likes, and she's getting rather tired of

him at last, for I 'm always cracking him up ! "

Aunt Betsy. "And that nice ff.llow, Goodenough ? He's never here now?"

Papa. "No ; I've forbidden him the house, and won't even allow his Name to be mentioned. She's always thinking
of him in consequence. I'm in hopes she'll marry him some day ! "

CHRISTMAS IN THE COMMONS.

THE SPEAKER'S DREAM.

" Sleep, Mr. Speaker; it's surely fair,

If you don't in your bed, that you should in

your chair."
So sang Praed, with much symp&thee,
In the year eighteen hundred and thirty-three.
What would he sing, did he Live so late,
In the year eighteen hundred and eighty-
eight ?

" Christmas cometh but once a year, [here."
And when it comes—finds the Speaker still
That is the version to fit the Commons [mons
Of the old Yule tag. Shall the cheerful sum-
That gladlyrings from the Christmas chimes
Find Parliament prating of Party crimes ?

Sleep, Mr. Speaker ; close an eye!
It is Christmas Eve, but they're still at
Tanner or Tim in a minute or two [Supply.
Some dreadful disorderly thing will do ;
Or Labby will move to dock somebody's pay.
Sleep, Mr. Speaker—sleep, sleep while you
may!

Sleep, Mr. Speakee ; Conybeaee soon
The power of the Chair will invoke—or im-
Hanbury soon will be raising a din [pugn.
On the subject of sixpence, or Suakin ;
Geandolpk will bother, or Jennings bray ;
Sleep, Mr. Speakee ; sleep, sleep, while you
may!

Sleep, Mr. Speakee, dream of the time
When courtesy was not counted a crime;

When Gladstone was pupil in Peel's old
school; [rule ;

When Palmeeston jested, but knew how to

How parties and principles pass away!

Sleep, Mr. Speaker, sleep, sleep, while you
may!

And the Speaker slept; and what did he
dream ?

The House was filled with a fire-like gleam.
Something had clearly gone wrong with the
place, [Mace ?

The Table was altered, and where was the
And—really this was the rummiest rig !
A garland of holly encircled his wig.
He was wrapped in woollen from top to toes,
And that rubicund button was not his nose.
It was Father Christmas sat in his Chair;
And who— who was it advancing there,
With a dish borne high, and an apron ? Look!
Is it Old Morality garbed as a Cook ?

Cook ? Faith, yes ! And what does he sing ?

And what is the dish that the Cook doth bring ?

A Boar's Head P Ay ! But 'tis plain to see

One must spell it here BORE;

And, despite its tusks, what a likeness there

To the dreaded visage of C-nyb-ee !
The Boee's Head Caeol.
Conyboee's head in hand bear I,
Bedecked with bays and rosemary ;
And I pray you, M.P.'s, be merry,
Ye must be glad to see it—very!
The Bore's head is a dainty dish;
That is, when dressed as all must wish,

With tongue that never more will wag,
Wide mouth—but with a lemon-gag!

Our steward hath provided this,

A seasonable boon and bliss.

To render all such Bore's heads dumb ones

Were worth a Christmas in the Commons!

The Speaker was roused by an Irish scream,
And he found it was but a Christmas dream.
But he said, as his robe round hisformhe drew,
And settled his wig, which had got askew ;—
" A vision, bred of the Season, no more!
Howl wishit were true—as regards the Bore! "

" tt. E. D."—whioh stands for " Quiltee,
Ed." of the Universal Review —deserves well
of the public for the reproduction of poor
Feed Walkee's sketch for a Black-eyed
Susan Envelope, and of "our Mr. Tenniel's "
spirited likeness of the Dame Hatley of
that period. No wonder the Burlesque had
such a run, seeing the number of legs with
which our Cartoonist has gifted the bounding
old lady. Most interesting article about Gen-
eral GoRDONtoo. Altogether a capital number.
Lucky Quilter !

Surplice - age. — "I can't understand
Canon Liddon's Sermons," observed one
Chorister of St._ Paul's to another. "No
more can I," replied his friend, who had been
reading a learned letter of Sir Geoege
Grove's in the Musical World. " I call him
' the enigmatic Canon.' "