DOI Heft:
October 8, 1892
DOI Seite / Zitierlink: https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17694#0172
Octobee 8, 1892.] PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 167
METAMORPHOSIS.
(" We know what we are, but we knoio not what we may be.")
Conductor, "Take yer to the Circus, and there you'll change into a Helephant."
Master Kenneth. "Oh, Mother, what a jolly Circus! May we go and see the Old Gentleman change into an Elephant?"
0 tardy messenger of fate,
Without distinction, small and great,
Their telegrams, perforce, await
Until your game is done.
Perchance a philosophic strain _
Makes you regard as wholly a ain
Our human bliss and woes;
What matters, whether State affairs,
Or news of good, or weighty cares,
Or tidings relative to shares
Within your bag repose ?
Well, not by me will you be blamed ;
1 like to see you not ashamed
To dawdle for awhile;
You furnish, by example sage,
A moral for our busy age ;
And so, though others fume and rage,
I watch you with a smile.
He moves at length, and now we '11 see
Which way . . . This telegram for me ?
Oh, worst of human crimes
Is such delay!—it's monstrous quite !
I '11 forward a complaint to-night!
Here, pen and paper—let me write
A letter to the Times !
" Beauty's best friends I drive away,
Artists who sketch, ramblers who rove,
Lovers who spoon, children who play,—
All, all who Nature love.
" Nor do I give them wholesome homes
For verdant meads—no, there's the fun !
Stuccodom, frail and sickly, comes
After ' Lot Twenty-One!'
" I make a clearing, dig a trench,
llun up a shell of rotten bricks.
And thus the rule of sham and stench
Upon the ' site' I fix.
" The ugly and unhealthy still
Associate Avith the name of Jerry ;
And thus I work my wicked will,
And flourish, and make merry ! "
'Twas so the Jerry-Jabberwock
Sang in a suburb, void of shame,
Blunderland's civic will to mock,
And put its sense to shame.
This ogre of our towns to slay,
Where is the urban " Beamish Boy " p
Carroll, when comes that "frabjous daj
We '11 " chortle in our joy."
Young County Council, are you one ?
'Tis said you 're but a Bumble-batch !
Beware the Jobjob Bird, and shun
The Bigot-Bandersnatch !
We','11 pardon much that seems absurd,
Excuse some blunders that bewilder,
If you'll but " draw your vorpal sword"
And slay—the Jerry-Builder !
THE MODERN MERCURY.
Behold that urchin, occupied
In counting with an honest pride
The marbles he has won!
Mrs. Ram was heard to remark that she
"didn't know a finer body of men than the
Yokel Loamanry." Probably the old lady
meant the Local Yeomanry.
METAMORPHOSIS.
(" We know what we are, but we knoio not what we may be.")
Conductor, "Take yer to the Circus, and there you'll change into a Helephant."
Master Kenneth. "Oh, Mother, what a jolly Circus! May we go and see the Old Gentleman change into an Elephant?"
0 tardy messenger of fate,
Without distinction, small and great,
Their telegrams, perforce, await
Until your game is done.
Perchance a philosophic strain _
Makes you regard as wholly a ain
Our human bliss and woes;
What matters, whether State affairs,
Or news of good, or weighty cares,
Or tidings relative to shares
Within your bag repose ?
Well, not by me will you be blamed ;
1 like to see you not ashamed
To dawdle for awhile;
You furnish, by example sage,
A moral for our busy age ;
And so, though others fume and rage,
I watch you with a smile.
He moves at length, and now we '11 see
Which way . . . This telegram for me ?
Oh, worst of human crimes
Is such delay!—it's monstrous quite !
I '11 forward a complaint to-night!
Here, pen and paper—let me write
A letter to the Times !
" Beauty's best friends I drive away,
Artists who sketch, ramblers who rove,
Lovers who spoon, children who play,—
All, all who Nature love.
" Nor do I give them wholesome homes
For verdant meads—no, there's the fun !
Stuccodom, frail and sickly, comes
After ' Lot Twenty-One!'
" I make a clearing, dig a trench,
llun up a shell of rotten bricks.
And thus the rule of sham and stench
Upon the ' site' I fix.
" The ugly and unhealthy still
Associate Avith the name of Jerry ;
And thus I work my wicked will,
And flourish, and make merry ! "
'Twas so the Jerry-Jabberwock
Sang in a suburb, void of shame,
Blunderland's civic will to mock,
And put its sense to shame.
This ogre of our towns to slay,
Where is the urban " Beamish Boy " p
Carroll, when comes that "frabjous daj
We '11 " chortle in our joy."
Young County Council, are you one ?
'Tis said you 're but a Bumble-batch !
Beware the Jobjob Bird, and shun
The Bigot-Bandersnatch !
We','11 pardon much that seems absurd,
Excuse some blunders that bewilder,
If you'll but " draw your vorpal sword"
And slay—the Jerry-Builder !
THE MODERN MERCURY.
Behold that urchin, occupied
In counting with an honest pride
The marbles he has won!
Mrs. Ram was heard to remark that she
"didn't know a finer body of men than the
Yokel Loamanry." Probably the old lady
meant the Local Yeomanry.