Punch / Almanack (1884)

PUNCH’S ALMANACK FOR 1884.

JEAMES IN' OLYMPUS.

No, Mary, ’tisn’t falseness, nor it ain't despair nor drink
Wick makes me shun your presinks, and prefer to sit and think.
You ’re a werry good sort, Mary, and I never knowed you fail.
Take a seat upon the coal-box, and I ’ll tell you a rum tale.

Them muffinks did lay evvy, and that clarsickle burlesk

At the “ Grig ” was most golumpshus, so serblime and picteresk,

That, upon my solemn davy, I’da feelink strong and odd,

If I weren’t a Henglish footman, I would be a Greshun God.

I am not a classick scholard, as to you may be beknown.

Though I’ve read a bit of Hovid,— in translashun I must own.
Which he ain't pertikler proper, but that seems to be a tray
As perwades the Hupper Suckles in a general sort o’ way.

Hupper Suckles ? Oh, my Mary,
not the nobbiest of the Squares
Can perSooce a fashernable set as
anyways compares
With the little lot I dropt on in
Holympus ! ’Ow the dooce
I got there I carnt remember, so it
; ain’t a mite o" use.

The place were slightly waprous,

; much like washing-day down
here,

And 1 found my solid twelve stun
in this misty kind o’ speer,

A-standing on a cloud-bank, with
these same substanshial feet,

A-bowing werry low to the Holyra-
pian heleet.

There was Joopeter—their Boss,
dear -looking wastly high and
big,

I With a ’ed of ’air as luxurous as a
Lord Chancellor’s wig ;

There was Jewno looking wixenish
at Wenus, and Apoller,

And—1 ’ll not remunerate them,
you ’ll learn more by what’s to
foller.

“ By Jove ! ” I cries, permiskus.

But a party standing there
With a sort o’ wing-tipped trun-
cheon, sez, “ Young man, you
mustn’t swear.”

I sez, Beg yer parding, Bobby ! ”
Whereupon a general roar
Of larfter showed I’d bin and put
my foot in it once more.

So I lifts my ’ed. up ’orty, for I
never could stand charf,

And there’s nothink so upsets me
as a hindiwidgious larf ;

And I sez, perlite, but hairy, and
without a mite of her,

“Since my presinks seems amusink
to your Washups, I ’ll withdror! ”

Sticks his bolts up in a corner, like some bulging old umbreller,
And sez he, “ Are you a wotary of Turpschicory, old feller ?

“ A dance, a dance, Immortals ! ” And, 0 Mary, in a twink,

(No, I’m not romancing, Mary, nor I’m not the wus for drink)

I was doing the fantastick in the puffeck form, as you know,

With Wenus for my partner, which my wiz-a-wiz was Jewno.

Ah ! them Goddesses can foot it ; but I think Jeames ’eld his own,
Wich with Wenus’s back ’air about a feller’s collar blown,

And Apoller’s what’s-it tootling fetching strains to guide the rush,
A chap as wasn’t in it were unworthy of the plush.

“ You have ‘ go,’ ” sez Afferadity,—that's ’er halias,—“ Well,’ sez I,
You are pleased to be perlite. Mum. As for you, you reglar fly.

| Birds of a feather, ain’t we ? ” “ Right you are,” sez she, “ by Jingo,

! Tho' they do link doves with Wenus, while you ’re more like a flamingo. ’’

“ Ah ! ” sez Jewno, with a hogle
at my plushes sleek and red,

“I shall just cashier my peacock,
and take Mister Jeames in-
stead.’

And they all larfed most rampa-
geous, save a female with a owl,
As surveyed the ’ole purceeding
with a solemn sort of scowl.

Then more tipple and a waltz, dear,
and my partner in the swing
Was that sort of ’evenly barmaid,
oh ! the cMck-est little thing,
Which she said her name was
E. B., and by times we’d waltzed
a minnit,

Jewno’s nose was out of joint, and
Afferadity wasn’t in it.

Here, Mary, I will leave a sort of
wacuum, if you please.
*****

“ Better than Wenus ? Nonsense! ”
sez the wicked little tease.

Then I flops upon a nubbly cloud,
and sez, “ Ho ! ’ear me swear 1
Upon my plush, she’s jest the sort
for which I do not care.

“ She’s passay, offie passay, like a
duchess as once took
A ponshony for yours truly—which
I left ’er to the dook.

As I ’ll leave the blooming bilin’
of the Goddesses for you,

My E. B., sweet as early purl, and
fresh as Mounting Dew.”

’Ere I riz myself to kiss her, but
whilst nearing hof ’er lips,

A sort of misty somethink, like a
stage-arrangement slips,

And there was all the Holympian
lot, like himages, behind,
Busting theirselves with larfter, in
the which that E. B.jined !

0 Mary, my emotion, —but no matter, I ’ll purceed,—

Sech a sweet young thing comes forward,—werry forward, dear, indeed;
Which her westure wasn’t wintry, not by no means, and her look
Was that arch-like and inwiting that my shoulder-knots quite shook.

And sez she, “ A fellow-pheelink makes us kind, and I, like you.

Am a sort of hupper servant. ’Ave a liquor-up ?—Now do! ”

And she takes a rum-shaped goblet, and she puts it to my lips,

And her and rests on my buzzum as the tumbler she up-tips.

Well, it couldn’t be the liquor, for to tell the truth ’twas queer,

A morkish kind o’ mixture, much like rum and ginger-beer ;

And if that’s Holympian Nectar, I can only say a chajj
In any London Pub. may find a prufferable tap.

But that ’and upon my weskit, and them eyes ! I felt a blush
Was a-flamink in my countingance as crimson as my plush.

Now don't weep into the coal-box, my dear Mary, like that there ;
There’s a lot more yet to foller, so do pray keep on your ’air.

Jove from his throne uprises, and he shouts, “ By Sticks, it’s Jeames !
Which to meet him in the flesh has been the fondest of my dreams,”

0, I tried to rally, Mary, but it were too sharp a stroke,

And so, slipping on a cloud, like, I head forward pitched and—woke,
And found myself the wictim of a muffink-murdered sleep,

With my ’ed upon the ’arth-rug, and my pillers in a ’eap.

And since that momink, Mary, like that chap, Enjimmyun,

I 'ave bin a moonstruck party for whom life is woid of fun.

Oh, E. B. ! you ’re a wision of ’ot muffinks and cold sleep !

If that coal-box ain’t quite full, dear, I will jine you in a weep.

OVERHEARD AT A MEETING OF THE UP-IN-A-BALLOON
SOCIETY.

’Arry. Wot’s the difference between Nelson and that cove in the
chair ?

Charlie. Give it up, mate.

'Arry. Wy, Nelson was a nautical ’ero, and this chap’s a ’ero
nautical, to be sure.

Bad Weather for Butchers. — Frozen meat imported from
Australia. Cold and raw, but fresh and seasonable.