DOI Heft:
April 23, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17693#0207
198 PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. [April 23, 1892.
SYMPATHY.
Mamma {to Cook)—"And Mrs. Stubbs, the Cream with the Apple-Tart yesterday ought to have been Whipped."
Ethel {ivho has a grateful remembrance of the dish in question). " Oh, Mummy dear I ' Ought to have been Whipped I' I thought
it was particularly good ! "
APRIL SHOWERS;
Or, A Spoiled Easter Holiday.
{A Vacation Cantata.)
Master George [stretching forth his fingers
to feel if the shower is abating) sings:—
Rain ! Rain!
Go away!
Come again
Another day!
Master Arthur {gloomily). Pooh! Rain
won't go away, not in these times,
By being sung at to old nursery rhymes :
Especially in such a voice as yours !
Master George. Needn't be nasty, Arthur !
Master Iiobert. How it pours !
Thought we were going to have a real jolly
And now it's set in wet, to spoil our holiday.
Master George. Always the way at Easter.
Shall we trudge it ?
Master Arthur. Not yet. What have you
got, George, in your Budget ?
Master George. Not very much, I fear!
Master Arthur. Ah, that's vexatious !
It might have cheered us up a bit.
Master George {indignanthj). Good gracious!
You 're always down on me, with no good
reasons.
You know I'm not the ruler of the Seasons.
Now if I'd been in your place—but no matter !
Master Robert. By Jingo, how the rain-
drops rush and clatter!
Ah, Primrose-gathering is not half so jolly
As once it used to be.
Master Arthur. Ah ! my dear Solly,
The springs are now so awfully wet and cold,
The "cry " don't seem so fetching as of old.
[Pipes up.
Recitative. " Who will buy my pretty,pretty
Rri-im-ro-o-ses !
All fresh gathered from the va-a-a-ll-ey ? "
Master George. The wet and cold have got
into your throat,
A quaver and a crack on every note !
Master Robert. Don't aggravate each other,
boys ; 'tis wrong,
But while it rains I'll tootle out a song :—
{Sings.) The days we went a-Primrosing!
Air—" The days tve went a-Gipsying /"
The days are gone, the happy days
When we were in our Spring ;
When all the Primrose loved to praise,
And join its gathering.
Oh ! we could sing like anything,
We felt the conqueror's glow,
In the days when we went Primrosing,
A long time ago.,
Chorus.—In the days, &c.
Then April's flowery return
Was " Peace-with-Honour's " goal.
And the bright brimstone-bunch would burn
In every button-hole.
Our Dames were gaily on the wing,
With blossoms in full blow,
In the days when we went Primrosing,
A long time ago.
Chorus.—In the days, &c.
But now Progressive storms prevail
Election blizzards chill;
The Primroses seem sparse and pale
In valley and on bill.
Yon cloud looks black as raven's wing !
Things did not menace so.
In the days when we went Primrosing
A long time ago !
Chorus—In the days, &c.
Both. Oh, brayvo, Bobby !
Master Robert, Thanks . Yet my song's
burden
Is dismaTas frfie croakings of Dame Durden.
Oar holiday is spoilt by driving showers.
I fear we shall have no great show of flowers;
But—anyhow my boys we 're under cover;
And let us hope that storm-cloud will pass over
Without first giving us a dreadful drenching,
And all our April-hopes entirely quenching.
All {singing together).
Rain! Rain!
Gro away !
Come again
Another day!
[Left crouching and singing.
11
From the Theatres, &c. Commission.—
1 am afraid," said Mr. P. S. Rutland,
speaking of the Music Halls, and in answer
to a question of Mr. Bolton's, "we cannot
do a wreck. {Laughter.)" Mr. Woodall :
"Without being wrecked in the attempt.
{Renewed laughter.)" Oh, witty Woodall!
Why, encouraged by this applause, he may
yet be led on to make a pun on his own
name, and say, " Would all were like him! "
or some such merry jest. The proceedings
in this Committee were becoming a trifle dull,
but it is to be hoped that they may yet hear
something still more sparkling from the wise
and witty Woodall.
SYMPATHY.
Mamma {to Cook)—"And Mrs. Stubbs, the Cream with the Apple-Tart yesterday ought to have been Whipped."
Ethel {ivho has a grateful remembrance of the dish in question). " Oh, Mummy dear I ' Ought to have been Whipped I' I thought
it was particularly good ! "
APRIL SHOWERS;
Or, A Spoiled Easter Holiday.
{A Vacation Cantata.)
Master George [stretching forth his fingers
to feel if the shower is abating) sings:—
Rain ! Rain!
Go away!
Come again
Another day!
Master Arthur {gloomily). Pooh! Rain
won't go away, not in these times,
By being sung at to old nursery rhymes :
Especially in such a voice as yours !
Master George. Needn't be nasty, Arthur !
Master Iiobert. How it pours !
Thought we were going to have a real jolly
And now it's set in wet, to spoil our holiday.
Master George. Always the way at Easter.
Shall we trudge it ?
Master Arthur. Not yet. What have you
got, George, in your Budget ?
Master George. Not very much, I fear!
Master Arthur. Ah, that's vexatious !
It might have cheered us up a bit.
Master George {indignanthj). Good gracious!
You 're always down on me, with no good
reasons.
You know I'm not the ruler of the Seasons.
Now if I'd been in your place—but no matter !
Master Robert. By Jingo, how the rain-
drops rush and clatter!
Ah, Primrose-gathering is not half so jolly
As once it used to be.
Master Arthur. Ah ! my dear Solly,
The springs are now so awfully wet and cold,
The "cry " don't seem so fetching as of old.
[Pipes up.
Recitative. " Who will buy my pretty,pretty
Rri-im-ro-o-ses !
All fresh gathered from the va-a-a-ll-ey ? "
Master George. The wet and cold have got
into your throat,
A quaver and a crack on every note !
Master Robert. Don't aggravate each other,
boys ; 'tis wrong,
But while it rains I'll tootle out a song :—
{Sings.) The days we went a-Primrosing!
Air—" The days tve went a-Gipsying /"
The days are gone, the happy days
When we were in our Spring ;
When all the Primrose loved to praise,
And join its gathering.
Oh ! we could sing like anything,
We felt the conqueror's glow,
In the days when we went Primrosing,
A long time ago.,
Chorus.—In the days, &c.
Then April's flowery return
Was " Peace-with-Honour's " goal.
And the bright brimstone-bunch would burn
In every button-hole.
Our Dames were gaily on the wing,
With blossoms in full blow,
In the days when we went Primrosing,
A long time ago.
Chorus.—In the days, &c.
But now Progressive storms prevail
Election blizzards chill;
The Primroses seem sparse and pale
In valley and on bill.
Yon cloud looks black as raven's wing !
Things did not menace so.
In the days when we went Primrosing
A long time ago !
Chorus—In the days, &c.
Both. Oh, brayvo, Bobby !
Master Robert, Thanks . Yet my song's
burden
Is dismaTas frfie croakings of Dame Durden.
Oar holiday is spoilt by driving showers.
I fear we shall have no great show of flowers;
But—anyhow my boys we 're under cover;
And let us hope that storm-cloud will pass over
Without first giving us a dreadful drenching,
And all our April-hopes entirely quenching.
All {singing together).
Rain! Rain!
Gro away !
Come again
Another day!
[Left crouching and singing.
11
From the Theatres, &c. Commission.—
1 am afraid," said Mr. P. S. Rutland,
speaking of the Music Halls, and in answer
to a question of Mr. Bolton's, "we cannot
do a wreck. {Laughter.)" Mr. Woodall :
"Without being wrecked in the attempt.
{Renewed laughter.)" Oh, witty Woodall!
Why, encouraged by this applause, he may
yet be led on to make a pun on his own
name, and say, " Would all were like him! "
or some such merry jest. The proceedings
in this Committee were becoming a trifle dull,
but it is to be hoped that they may yet hear
something still more sparkling from the wise
and witty Woodall.