S4
[January 31, 1891.
GENUINE ENTHUSIASM.
(A Thaw Picture.)
Whit matter an Inch or Two of Surface-Water, if the Ice bi still sound underneath !
" ROUGE ET NOIR ! "
Or, Jonathan's Perplexing Problem.
(Some Way after Hosea Biglow's "Jonathan to
John.")
Jonathan (ivho has been reading the Articles
on " The Negro Question in the United
States," in the English " Times") log : —
It may be ez you're right, John,
And both my hands are fall;
You know ez I can fight, John,
(I've wiped out "Sitting Bull").
Ole Uncle S sez he, "I guess
We see our fix," sez he.
"The'Thunderer's' paw lays down the law,
Accordin' to J. B.
To square it's left to me ! "
Blood ain't so cool as ink, John ;
Big words are easy wrote ;
The " coons"—well, you don't think, John,
I '11 let 'em cut my throat.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Ghost-dance must stop," sez he.
" Suppose the ' braves ' and black ex-slaves
Hed b'longed to ole J. B.
Insted of unto me ? "
Ten art'cles in your Times, John,
Hev giv me good advice.
I mind th' old Slavery crimes, John.
I don't need tellin' twice.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
I only guess," sez he,
" Seven million blacks on his folkb' backs
Would kind o' rile J. B.
Ez much ez it riles me I "
The Red Man,—well, I s'pose, John,
We '11 hev to wipe him aout.
Sech pizonous trash ez those, John,
The world kin do without.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Injuns must go," sez he.
" Cooper's Red Man won't fit our plan,
Though he once witched J. B.
As once he fetched e'en me !"
The Black Man! Ah, that's wuss, Joh ^.
The chaps wuz right, &y joost,
Who said the Slavery cuss, John,
Wud yet come home to roost.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
The problem set," sez he,
" By that derned Nig. is black and big,
And fairly puzzles me,
Ez it wud do J. B."
Your Times would right our wrongs, John.
—Always xouz sweet on us!—■
But on dilemma's prongs, John,
To fix me don't you fuss.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
Though physic's good," sez he,
" It doesn't foiler that he can swaller
Prescriptions signed J. B.
Put up by you for me I "
Thet swaggerin' black buck Nig., John,
Is jest a grown-up kid ;
Ez happy as a—pig, John,
When doin' wut he's bid.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
He's hateful when he's free.
Equal with him, that dark-skinn'd limb ?
No ; that will not suit me,
More than it wud J. B.! "
Emigrate the whole lot, John ?
Well, that's a tallish task !
In Afric's centre hot, John,
Send 'em to breed and bask P
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
-Z~'d be right glad," sez he,
"But—will they gof 'Taiu't done, you
As easy as J. B. Lbi'JW,
Wud settle it—for me 1"
R mge—there I see my way, John.
But Noii—thet's hard to front!
It wun't be no child's play, John,
Seven million Nigs to shunt.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
We've a hard row," sez he,
" To hoe just now, but thet, somehow,
I fancy, friend J. B.,
Your l^i?nes may leave to me ! "
[Left considering it.
WELCOME BACK!
[Mr. Santley, who has been Ions: absent in
Australia, reappeared at St. James's Hall on Jan.
19, and was received with great enthusiasm.]
Back from your Australian trip !
Punch, my Charles, your fist must grip.
You have lighted on a time
When we're all chill, choke, and grime.
'Twere no marvel, 0 great baritone,
Did you find your voice had nary tone.
But there's none like vou can sing
" To Anthea," " TheErl-Jving."
Schubert, Gounod, English Hatton,
Equally your Fine Art's pat on.
Punch can never praise you scantly.
A voire sante, good Charles Santley !
[January 31, 1891.
GENUINE ENTHUSIASM.
(A Thaw Picture.)
Whit matter an Inch or Two of Surface-Water, if the Ice bi still sound underneath !
" ROUGE ET NOIR ! "
Or, Jonathan's Perplexing Problem.
(Some Way after Hosea Biglow's "Jonathan to
John.")
Jonathan (ivho has been reading the Articles
on " The Negro Question in the United
States," in the English " Times") log : —
It may be ez you're right, John,
And both my hands are fall;
You know ez I can fight, John,
(I've wiped out "Sitting Bull").
Ole Uncle S sez he, "I guess
We see our fix," sez he.
"The'Thunderer's' paw lays down the law,
Accordin' to J. B.
To square it's left to me ! "
Blood ain't so cool as ink, John ;
Big words are easy wrote ;
The " coons"—well, you don't think, John,
I '11 let 'em cut my throat.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Ghost-dance must stop," sez he.
" Suppose the ' braves ' and black ex-slaves
Hed b'longed to ole J. B.
Insted of unto me ? "
Ten art'cles in your Times, John,
Hev giv me good advice.
I mind th' old Slavery crimes, John.
I don't need tellin' twice.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
I only guess," sez he,
" Seven million blacks on his folkb' backs
Would kind o' rile J. B.
Ez much ez it riles me I "
The Red Man,—well, I s'pose, John,
We '11 hev to wipe him aout.
Sech pizonous trash ez those, John,
The world kin do without.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Injuns must go," sez he.
" Cooper's Red Man won't fit our plan,
Though he once witched J. B.
As once he fetched e'en me !"
The Black Man! Ah, that's wuss, Joh ^.
The chaps wuz right, &y joost,
Who said the Slavery cuss, John,
Wud yet come home to roost.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
The problem set," sez he,
" By that derned Nig. is black and big,
And fairly puzzles me,
Ez it wud do J. B."
Your Times would right our wrongs, John.
—Always xouz sweet on us!—■
But on dilemma's prongs, John,
To fix me don't you fuss.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
Though physic's good," sez he,
" It doesn't foiler that he can swaller
Prescriptions signed J. B.
Put up by you for me I "
Thet swaggerin' black buck Nig., John,
Is jest a grown-up kid ;
Ez happy as a—pig, John,
When doin' wut he's bid.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
He's hateful when he's free.
Equal with him, that dark-skinn'd limb ?
No ; that will not suit me,
More than it wud J. B.! "
Emigrate the whole lot, John ?
Well, that's a tallish task !
In Afric's centre hot, John,
Send 'em to breed and bask P
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
-Z~'d be right glad," sez he,
"But—will they gof 'Taiu't done, you
As easy as J. B. Lbi'JW,
Wud settle it—for me 1"
R mge—there I see my way, John.
But Noii—thet's hard to front!
It wun't be no child's play, John,
Seven million Nigs to shunt.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
We've a hard row," sez he,
" To hoe just now, but thet, somehow,
I fancy, friend J. B.,
Your l^i?nes may leave to me ! "
[Left considering it.
WELCOME BACK!
[Mr. Santley, who has been Ions: absent in
Australia, reappeared at St. James's Hall on Jan.
19, and was received with great enthusiasm.]
Back from your Australian trip !
Punch, my Charles, your fist must grip.
You have lighted on a time
When we're all chill, choke, and grime.
'Twere no marvel, 0 great baritone,
Did you find your voice had nary tone.
But there's none like vou can sing
" To Anthea," " TheErl-Jving."
Schubert, Gounod, English Hatton,
Equally your Fine Art's pat on.
Punch can never praise you scantly.
A voire sante, good Charles Santley !
Werk/Gegenstand/Objekt
Titel
Titel/Objekt
Punch
Sachbegriff/Objekttyp
Inschrift/Wasserzeichen
Aufbewahrung/Standort
Aufbewahrungsort/Standort (GND)
Inv. Nr./Signatur
H 634-3 Folio
Objektbeschreibung
Maß-/Formatangaben
Auflage/Druckzustand
Werktitel/Werkverzeichnis
Herstellung/Entstehung
Künstler/Urheber/Hersteller (GND)
Entstehungsdatum
um 1891
Entstehungsdatum (normiert)
1886 - 1896
Entstehungsort (GND)
Auftrag
Publikation
Fund/Ausgrabung
Provenienz
Restaurierung
Sammlung Eingang
Ausstellung
Bearbeitung/Umgestaltung
Thema/Bildinhalt
Thema/Bildinhalt (GND)
Literaturangabe
Rechte am Objekt
Aufnahmen/Reproduktionen
Künstler/Urheber (GND)
Reproduktionstyp
Digitales Bild
Rechtsstatus
Public Domain Mark 1.0
Rechteinhaber Weblink
Creditline
Punch, 100.1891, January 31, 1891, S. 54