DOI Heft:
September 17, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0137
132
PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHAKIVAKI. [September 17, 1892.
Reflection polished of high- THE HAT TO THE PARASOL. Out on thee, trinket idly
AnTunreflectkig graces, ^ Scherzo in N6bs and Sticks') CoSd^iy courtier dare see,
I scintillate o'er Sieephon's \ Through such perfections so
head '^il^s displayed, [merer'?
At gala, rout or races; V ^e mere '"Belle Dame sans
Mine is the black but comely \ ^^§§^1 Could man believe a thing so
blend, [touches y^, ^.rg^ _ ^^f^f^H^.. ,\ .fl«g^te3afet. soft,
And mine the crowning /^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^v So framed for gentle passion,
That so demurely r6 com mend. ^^%J\^^^yy^^^^^^^^^ //^a^sS^^ Might wound, and wound not
The dandy to the duchess. r^/ / L ^^^^^^^^^^^^^Mimnl/^^^^^^^m once °^
Out on thee, cruel Parasol, A7 / L lT^^-JwP'f^Ol The jaunty glass of fashion?
Of lace, the pearl, and satin; v</L / "-. »> ':^^^^^^^^^m\^^^^^^^^fW Yet sooth it is; and here I stand
And glinting like a fairy doll ^ jjzj>>\ i jp* ' \||||||^^ martyr to my tenets—
With many a burnished ^/9)\ ° ^qpr^~^^^^^ llliav jgiijgl^Pflllflf That orthodoxy smooth and
patin; [dame M^L-^^ /^mWI^^^^^^^^B^ W^^^^^^^^^^. grand [Bennett's;
Cool, charming as the dainty W^j^mMlfrHlmil!l\\luTOM^p^^^^^^wB^mBQjrfjtMWTfi' ^ Lincoln's fane and
Who twirls thy coromandel; /witwIhIMII'1 Unruffled once and unper-
Thou flauntest proudly since plexed,
thy name, [handle! Collapsing now like jelly,
Like hers, can boast its rm And but a sermon on the text
The cynosure of wondering
beaux, 'ft^yy/Z^^^T^^j^^^^^SEBKSKS^^k^^ I who have braved our fitful
I boast a sotil above thee ; y^^^^z—^^j^^^^^^^^^Ss^^^^^^^^^ climes drenches,
No fate can mar my calm re- -^^^^^i^^"rX^^^^^^^^^^^^^7' And laughed when tempest
pose, [thee ; J^Pll=\^7^^>4P^ v ^^n^^^^^^5^^^^^^^ And shaken off the dust that
Or make me cease to love Jwf~ \ N V^/^^^v^^^o^^^?^^n\ grimes [benches,
Supreme above the common Y> 16 w7 fill _^J^^^Nv^\k Pews, cushioned stalls and
tile, # | jOTr I ^^^^NvW^ (oSwSm\v\) Survived the counter blasting
My own affronts unheeding, ^ "—\/4r/ II ^v\\^\^ Row, [so—
I bow and compliment and ^y&F llp^r2^ %fac^^**^*Aj> ?x —- ' And Summer gales that roar
smile, W I ne'er imagined such a foe
The Chesterfield of breeding. *™ Could trounce me to a torso.
THE POTATO AND THE HEPTARCHY.
(A Sensible Song for the Silly Season.)
["Even the Potato and the Heptarchy will not
leave us perfectly equipped."—The Daily News
on " Why Young Men Don't Marry."]
The Tater and the Heptarchy
Were walking hand-in-hand;
They wept like "first-night" Stalls to see
The folly of the land ;
" If fools would not talk fiddlededee,"
They said " it would be grand! "
" If modest maids with towzled mops
On you and me were clear,
Do you suppose," the Tater said,
" More men would wed each year ? "
" I doubt it," said the Heptarchy—
" They only mean to sneer !
" ' 0 Maidens, come and cook for us !'
They—shamming love—beseech.
' Oh, tell us about Saxon times !
The course of history teach !'
But what they really want is ' tin ;'
A thumping share for each.
1' A girl may cook like any chef,
And know all Hallaji through,
May be a dab at darning socks,
Or making Irish stew;
But what young cubs care for is cash,
And not for me or you.
" They want to lead an easy life,
And have good weeds and wine.
Without these luxuries, a wife
They scornfully decline.
For Benedick's life of manly strife
The fops are^far too fine."
" The Season's come, the Tater said,
To write of many things :
Of frocks—and socks—and needle-work—
And babes—and bonnet-strings ;
But all the lot talk utter rot.
Let the fools have their flings!
"Their jibes at girls, their games, their
curls,
Their wastefulness, their waist,
Their yearnings to hook Dukes and Earls,
Their matrimonial haste,
Are the crude chat of cubs and churls,
And in the vilest taste.
" But when they prate of you and me,
As the two gifts they want,
Say Classic lore and Cookery
Are things for which they pant;
Believe me, my dear Heptarchy,
They plumb profoundest Cant! "
SEA-SIDE ILLS.
(By Our Man Over-bored.)
SEA-SIDYLL—THE PIER BAND.
'Tis the Band of the Corporation—
And it plays on that body's pier ;
And one knows by the way
That the instruments play,
That the talent is not too dear.
And the trombone is not too clear ;
When it has to play quick
It is moistful ond thick,
For the trombone is fond of beer—
It is nurtured on pots of beer.
'Tis the Band of the Corporation—
And the cornet is fat just here ;
And he's short, and bull-necked.
When you come to reflect
How he wastes all his wind, 'tis queer
That the man should be stout just here !
But the noise of the throat
In the solos denote
That the cornet is fond of beer —
It's been brought up on pots of beer.
'Tis the Band of the Corporation—
And I know why that Band is queer,
For I see in the face
Of the trombone a trace
Of the blackguard who blows it near
Me in Town, at most times of year !
And I mark, too, the face
Of that beastly big-bass—
(Which has also been reared on beer)—
And I know, too, the face
Of that other disgrace,
The fat cornet! They've come down here—
They've been borrowed, and lent new gear !
But I know them of old,
And in spite of the gold
Round the hats, with the peaks just here,
I can see who they are while near.
They wear bowlers in Town,
And frock-coats which are brown,
On account of their age—or beer!
For they play to the public for beer ;
For they stand and they blow
On the kerb in a row,
And then go to the public for beer !
And so this is the Band down here!
"Three Choirs Festival."—Curious co-
incidence, if true, that when Miss Jessie King
was charmingly giving the contralto song,
" While my Watch I'm Keeping,''1 a gentle-
man in the crowded audience suddenly put his
hand to his waistcoat-pocket and exclaimed,
" Good gracious ! it's gone ! " He will never
forget the title of that song. The watch was
off its guard.
()^» NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no caSe Tre returned1, not even wh'Sn abc'oni'pitniM by a Stamped and Addressed Envelop, Cove*, or WraVpei1. To this rule
there will be ho exception.
PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHAKIVAKI. [September 17, 1892.
Reflection polished of high- THE HAT TO THE PARASOL. Out on thee, trinket idly
AnTunreflectkig graces, ^ Scherzo in N6bs and Sticks') CoSd^iy courtier dare see,
I scintillate o'er Sieephon's \ Through such perfections so
head '^il^s displayed, [merer'?
At gala, rout or races; V ^e mere '"Belle Dame sans
Mine is the black but comely \ ^^§§^1 Could man believe a thing so
blend, [touches y^, ^.rg^ _ ^^f^f^H^.. ,\ .fl«g^te3afet. soft,
And mine the crowning /^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^v So framed for gentle passion,
That so demurely r6 com mend. ^^%J\^^^yy^^^^^^^^^ //^a^sS^^ Might wound, and wound not
The dandy to the duchess. r^/ / L ^^^^^^^^^^^^^Mimnl/^^^^^^^m once °^
Out on thee, cruel Parasol, A7 / L lT^^-JwP'f^Ol The jaunty glass of fashion?
Of lace, the pearl, and satin; v</L / "-. »> ':^^^^^^^^^m\^^^^^^^^fW Yet sooth it is; and here I stand
And glinting like a fairy doll ^ jjzj>>\ i jp* ' \||||||^^ martyr to my tenets—
With many a burnished ^/9)\ ° ^qpr^~^^^^^ llliav jgiijgl^Pflllflf That orthodoxy smooth and
patin; [dame M^L-^^ /^mWI^^^^^^^^B^ W^^^^^^^^^^. grand [Bennett's;
Cool, charming as the dainty W^j^mMlfrHlmil!l\\luTOM^p^^^^^^wB^mBQjrfjtMWTfi' ^ Lincoln's fane and
Who twirls thy coromandel; /witwIhIMII'1 Unruffled once and unper-
Thou flauntest proudly since plexed,
thy name, [handle! Collapsing now like jelly,
Like hers, can boast its rm And but a sermon on the text
The cynosure of wondering
beaux, 'ft^yy/Z^^^T^^j^^^^^SEBKSKS^^k^^ I who have braved our fitful
I boast a sotil above thee ; y^^^^z—^^j^^^^^^^^^Ss^^^^^^^^^ climes drenches,
No fate can mar my calm re- -^^^^^i^^"rX^^^^^^^^^^^^^7' And laughed when tempest
pose, [thee ; J^Pll=\^7^^>4P^ v ^^n^^^^^^5^^^^^^^ And shaken off the dust that
Or make me cease to love Jwf~ \ N V^/^^^v^^^o^^^?^^n\ grimes [benches,
Supreme above the common Y> 16 w7 fill _^J^^^Nv^\k Pews, cushioned stalls and
tile, # | jOTr I ^^^^NvW^ (oSwSm\v\) Survived the counter blasting
My own affronts unheeding, ^ "—\/4r/ II ^v\\^\^ Row, [so—
I bow and compliment and ^y&F llp^r2^ %fac^^**^*Aj> ?x —- ' And Summer gales that roar
smile, W I ne'er imagined such a foe
The Chesterfield of breeding. *™ Could trounce me to a torso.
THE POTATO AND THE HEPTARCHY.
(A Sensible Song for the Silly Season.)
["Even the Potato and the Heptarchy will not
leave us perfectly equipped."—The Daily News
on " Why Young Men Don't Marry."]
The Tater and the Heptarchy
Were walking hand-in-hand;
They wept like "first-night" Stalls to see
The folly of the land ;
" If fools would not talk fiddlededee,"
They said " it would be grand! "
" If modest maids with towzled mops
On you and me were clear,
Do you suppose," the Tater said,
" More men would wed each year ? "
" I doubt it," said the Heptarchy—
" They only mean to sneer !
" ' 0 Maidens, come and cook for us !'
They—shamming love—beseech.
' Oh, tell us about Saxon times !
The course of history teach !'
But what they really want is ' tin ;'
A thumping share for each.
1' A girl may cook like any chef,
And know all Hallaji through,
May be a dab at darning socks,
Or making Irish stew;
But what young cubs care for is cash,
And not for me or you.
" They want to lead an easy life,
And have good weeds and wine.
Without these luxuries, a wife
They scornfully decline.
For Benedick's life of manly strife
The fops are^far too fine."
" The Season's come, the Tater said,
To write of many things :
Of frocks—and socks—and needle-work—
And babes—and bonnet-strings ;
But all the lot talk utter rot.
Let the fools have their flings!
"Their jibes at girls, their games, their
curls,
Their wastefulness, their waist,
Their yearnings to hook Dukes and Earls,
Their matrimonial haste,
Are the crude chat of cubs and churls,
And in the vilest taste.
" But when they prate of you and me,
As the two gifts they want,
Say Classic lore and Cookery
Are things for which they pant;
Believe me, my dear Heptarchy,
They plumb profoundest Cant! "
SEA-SIDE ILLS.
(By Our Man Over-bored.)
SEA-SIDYLL—THE PIER BAND.
'Tis the Band of the Corporation—
And it plays on that body's pier ;
And one knows by the way
That the instruments play,
That the talent is not too dear.
And the trombone is not too clear ;
When it has to play quick
It is moistful ond thick,
For the trombone is fond of beer—
It is nurtured on pots of beer.
'Tis the Band of the Corporation—
And the cornet is fat just here ;
And he's short, and bull-necked.
When you come to reflect
How he wastes all his wind, 'tis queer
That the man should be stout just here !
But the noise of the throat
In the solos denote
That the cornet is fond of beer —
It's been brought up on pots of beer.
'Tis the Band of the Corporation—
And I know why that Band is queer,
For I see in the face
Of the trombone a trace
Of the blackguard who blows it near
Me in Town, at most times of year !
And I mark, too, the face
Of that beastly big-bass—
(Which has also been reared on beer)—
And I know, too, the face
Of that other disgrace,
The fat cornet! They've come down here—
They've been borrowed, and lent new gear !
But I know them of old,
And in spite of the gold
Round the hats, with the peaks just here,
I can see who they are while near.
They wear bowlers in Town,
And frock-coats which are brown,
On account of their age—or beer!
For they play to the public for beer ;
For they stand and they blow
On the kerb in a row,
And then go to the public for beer !
And so this is the Band down here!
"Three Choirs Festival."—Curious co-
incidence, if true, that when Miss Jessie King
was charmingly giving the contralto song,
" While my Watch I'm Keeping,''1 a gentle-
man in the crowded audience suddenly put his
hand to his waistcoat-pocket and exclaimed,
" Good gracious ! it's gone ! " He will never
forget the title of that song. The watch was
off its guard.
()^» NOTICE.—Rejected Communications or Contributions, whether MS., Printed Matter, Drawings, or Pictures of any description, will
in no caSe Tre returned1, not even wh'Sn abc'oni'pitniM by a Stamped and Addressed Envelop, Cove*, or WraVpei1. To this rule
there will be ho exception.