Punch (100.1891)

66

PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

[February 7, 1891.

ANNALS OF A QUIET NEIGHBOURHOOD. AN ICE PICTURE.

Fair Damsel. '' "What a Lot of Holidays you seem to get, Mr. Miniver 1"
Pet Curate. "Well, yes. I keep a Rector, you know."

WHAT DO YOU THINK?

[A Song of the Session, as sung by that Eminent
and Evergreen Lion Comique, "Jolly
Glad " at the St. Stephen's) Hall ofVarieties,
Westminster.)

Jolly Glad, sings'> —
With a flower in my coat,
With a keen eye for a vote,
And a sense the things to note,

Buff and Blue think.
With fond millions to admire,
A last triumph to desire,—
Am I going to Retire f—

What do you think ?
Oh, I know the quidnuncs vapour,
And that Tadpole, yes, and Taper,
Tell in many a twaddling paper,

What the few think ;
But they cater for the classes,
Whilst i" 'm champion of the masses,
Fly before such braying asses ?—

What do you think ?
Wish is father to their thought,
Their wild hope with fear is fraught.
They are not au fait to aught

Liberals true think.
They imagine " Mr. Fox"
Has delivered such hard knocks
That impasse my pathway blocks! —

What do you think ?
Just inspect me, if you please!
Is my pose not marked by ease ?
Am I going at the knees,

Like a "screw" Think!
Pooh! The part of Sisyphus
Suits me well. Why make a fuss?
Eh ? Retire,—and leave things thus ?

What do you think ?

On the—say the Lyric Stage—
For some years I 've been the rage,
And some histrios touched by age

Of Adieu think.
But I'm like that " Awful Dad,"
Though this makes my rivals mad,
Don't true Gladdyites feel glad Y

What do you think ?
I'm a genuine Evergreen ;
It is that excites their spleen
Who my lingering on the scene

A great "do" think.
I regret, so much, to tease them !
My last exit would much ease them.
But Retire !—and just to please them !
What do you think ?

[ Winks and walks round.

A DREAMY MADNESS.

The other night I went to bed,—

It may seem strange, but still I did it,—
And laid to rest my weary head

So that the bed-clothes nearly hid it;
Which was perhaps the reason why

My brain throughout the night was teeming
With truly wondrous sights, and I

Was wholly given o'er to dreaming.

'Twas on the Twenty-first of May,

The streets were filled to overflowing,
The streets, that in a curious way

Were clean although it kept on snowing.
The daily papers for a change

Came out each day without a leader,'
But, what was surely rather strange,

They didn't lose a single reader I

I saw a Bishop in a tram,
.Although he knew it was a Sunday ;

The lion lay down with the lamb,

And Clement Scott with Sidney Grundy.
Professor Huxlei said, " In truth

I'm really sick to death of rows," and
Wrote there and then to General Booth

To put his name down for a thousand.
I heard that Mr. Parnexl wrote

(Much to McCarthi's jubilation)
A very kind and civil note,

In which he sent his resignation ;
WhiLst Andrew Lang with weary air

Professed himself completely staggered
To think how anyone could care

To read a line of Rider Haggard.
The House of Commons talked about

The case of Mr. Bradlaugh—whether
The Motion which his kept him out

Should now be struck out altogether ;
And Old Morality arose

To say they felt no ancient animus,
And when they voted, why of Noes

There wasn't one—they were unanimous !
# * » * *

I started up, no more to sleep,

The dream somehow had seemed to spoil it,
Nor did it take me long to leap

Out of mv bed and make my toilet.
I went down-stairs, and with surprise

I thought of those my dream had slandered,
And there, before my very eyes,

I saw it printed in the Standard !
I wish I hadn't gone to bed, _

I can't imagine why I did it,
Nor why I laid my weary head

So that the clothes completely hid it.
Although I think that must be why _

My brain has ever since been teeming ;
But tell me (if you can) am I

At present mad, or teas I dreaming ?