Punch (102.1892)

March 26, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

147

CONSCIENTIOUS.

Mr. Boozle {soliloquises). "My Medical Max told me never on any account to mix
my Wines. So I'll finish the Champagne first, and then tackle the Claret !"

If anyone dared stop his play,

He screamed out—" Take the wretch away"!

Oh, take my enemy away !

Lwon t have any foes to-day ! "

His old adviser Wilhelm swore
Was a pig-headed senile bore.
He meant to try another tack,
So his Old Pilot got the sack.
Nay more, one day, in a fierce squall,
He smashed his picture on the wall;
Tore up the papers when they said
He was a little " off his head."
He yelled, in his despotic way,
" Not any Press for me," I say !
"Oh, take that nasty Punch away !
I won't have any Punch to-day! "

He deemed himself, and this was odd,
A sort of new Olympian god;
And when the wise, who watched his whim,
Sighed, '' Have the gods demented him p
Quern deus vult, et cetera" he
Was just as mad as mad could be ;
And, just like other angry boys,
Kicked over tables, smashed his toys,
And cried out, " Take the things away !
I '11 have nought but new toys to-day ! "

'' Prudence ? " he yelled; 1' what do Jcare ? "
And here he kicked the old pet Bear
His sire and grandsire had so cherished,
Till the old policy had perished
With Wilful Wilhelm, who preferred
The Eagles. With a pole he stirred >
Big Bruin up. " Oh, I'11 surprise him !
And, if he growls, I '11 ' pulverise' him.''
Some thought that picking rows with Bruin
Meant folly, if it did not ruin ;
But when they whispered words of warning,
Then Wilful Wilhelm, counsel scorning,
Shrieked, " Take the nasty brute away !
I won't have any Bears to-day! "

Now, Wiliielm, do not be absurd,
But listen to a friendly word!
You are a clever boy, no doubt,
And very smart, and very stout,
Like young Augustus, dainty eater,
Whose story is in Struivwelpeter.
Did'st ever read those truthful stories,
Good Dr. Helnrich Hoffmann's glories,
Which round the world have travelled gaily,
By Nursery pets consulted daily ?
If not, just get " Shock-headed Peter " ;
Bead of Augustus, the soup-eater,
And stuck-up "Johnny Head-in-Air,"
Who came down "bump" all unaware,
And" Fidgety Philip." You'll confess them
Pointed,—and don't try to suppress them,
Like Princes, party-men and papers
Which can't admire all your mad capers !
My Wilful Wilhelm, you '11 not win
By dint of mere despotic din;
By kicking everybody over
In whom a critic you discover,
Or shouting in your furious way,
" Oh, take the nasty Punch away!
I won't have any Punch to-day ! "

What the Commander-in-Chief, Mr.
Punch, says to the Artists' Corps.—
" Gentlemen, you would no doubt like a brush
with the enemy, to whom you will always
show a full face. Any colourable pretence for
a skirmish won't suit your palette. You
march with the colours, and, like the oils, you
will never run. You all look perfect pictures,
and everybody must admire your well-knit
frames. Gentlemen, I do not know whether
you will take my concluding observation as a
compliment or not, but I need hardly say
that it is meant to be both truthful and
complimentary, and it is this, that though
you are all Artists, you look perfect
models,"

"BUTCHEB'D TO MAKE-."

[On Monday the 14th a " lion-tamer " was torn to
pieces in a show at Hednesford.]

Shame to the callous French, who goad
The horse that pulls a heavy load !
Shame to the Spanish bull-fight! Shame
To those who make of death a game !
We English are a better race :
We love the long and solemn face ;
We fly from any cheerful place,—
On Sunday.

But, other days, we like a show.
There may be danger, as we know ;
We put the thought of that aside,
For noble sport is England's pride :
We 'd advertise a railway trip,
To see a wretched tamer slip
And die beneath the lion's grip,—
On Monday!

A Really Exceptionally Remarkable
and Noteworthy Fact.—To-day, Thursday,
3Iarch 17.—Fine Spring weather. Have sat
for over half-an-hour at a window looking on
to the street, between 3"30 and 4*15 p.m., and
have not once heard either the whole or any
portion of the now strangely popular " Ta-

ra-ra-boom-de-ay ! " ... As I write this . . .
ha! . . . The grocer's book! . . . " Boom-de-
ay" without the'' Ta-ra." The spell is broken!
N.B.—As this delightful song has now a
certain number of Music-" hall-marks," the
places where it is sung can be spotted and
remembered as " Ta-ra's Halls."

TO THE YOUNG CITY MEN.

To make much of (luncheon) TlME ; or,

a Counsel to Clerks. (After Herrick.)

Gather ye fish-bones while ye may,

The luncheon hour is flying,
And this same cod, that's boiled to-day,

To-morrow may be frying.
The handsome clock of ormolu

A quarter past is showing,
And soon 'twill be a quarter to,

When you must think of going.

That man eats best wrho eats the first,
When fish and plates are warmer,

But being cold, the worse and worst
Fare still succeeds the former.

Then be not coy, but use your lungs,
And while ye may, cry " Waiter ! ''

For having held just now your tongues,
You may repent it later.