DOI issue:
Punch's Almanack for 1885
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17766#0013
PUNCH’S ALMANACK FOR 1885.
LADY GATHEREMALL AT HOME.
Lady Midas (to her Son). “Society’s gettin’ much too mixed, Gop.gy ! Look at that Young Man, now, with them two fast-
looking Minxes hanging on to him. Some Artist, I suppose ! for I recollect meeting him at the Academy Swarry—it was
in the Hall, y-ou know, and I was all alone, and in such a state, for I couldn’t find myt Footman, when up comes that
Young Man, and wants to know if he can do anything, and gets my Wraps, and holds an Umbrella over Me, and finds my
Carriage, and helps me in, and actually' say's he hoped I shouldn’t catch cold ! A most for ward and puseikg Young Man ! ”
Gorgius Midas, Esq., Junior. “What rot yer tore. Mother! Pushihg, indeed! "Why, it’s Lord Bayard of Grandison, and
he’s got a Hundred Thousand a year, and that’s his Wife and Sister with him?” [Collapse of Lady Midas.
A RURAL-URBAN
ROUNDELAY.
As down in Covent
Garden
At leisure I did go,
Outside the fruit and
flowers for sale
In the Market all on
show,
Amongst a hodge-podge
litter
Of rubbish and waste
strewed round,
Stalks, roots, and cab-
bage-leaves, shucks,
and greens,
And offal about the
ground,
There I espied a Party,
And unto him did
t say
“ Wun’t thee employ no
scavengers
To cart mud-salad
away ? ”
“ I wun’t employ no sca-
vengers
I tell’ee I wun’t—so
there !
But I manes to live a
Landlord,
And still the Crownet
wear.”
Sir Gorgius. “Society’s gettin’ much too mixed, yer Ladyship ! I can assure you»
when Lady' M.’s a drivin’ about London in one of ’er hopen Carriages, she ardly
dares look up, for fear o’ seein’ someone she knows on the top of a Homnibus,!
The Lady Gwendoline Beaumanoir. “ Yes, very sad ! By the way, I’m afraid she ll
often see Papa there ; but never Me, you know ! Mamma and I always go Inside !
CHRISTMAS NUM-
BERS.
(As we find them.)
One, two,
Nightshade and Rue ;
Three, four.
Goblins and gore ;
Five, six,
Gehenna and Styx ;
Seven, eight,
Pitiless fate ;
Nine, ten,
Murderous men ;
Eleven, twelve,
Graves that they delve ;
Thirteen, fourteen,
Vampires a^courtin’ ;
Fifteen, sixteen.
Spectres with fixt een ;
Seventeen, eighteen,
Detectives in waitin’ ;
Nineteen, twenty,—
Dash it! that’s plenty !
Such are the wonderful
witch-broth ingredi-
ents,
Fiendish devices, and
bogie expedients
Writh which yule-tide
writers haunt inno-
cent slumbers.
And freeze youthful
blood in—so-called—
Christmas Numbers I
LADY GATHEREMALL AT HOME.
Lady Midas (to her Son). “Society’s gettin’ much too mixed, Gop.gy ! Look at that Young Man, now, with them two fast-
looking Minxes hanging on to him. Some Artist, I suppose ! for I recollect meeting him at the Academy Swarry—it was
in the Hall, y-ou know, and I was all alone, and in such a state, for I couldn’t find myt Footman, when up comes that
Young Man, and wants to know if he can do anything, and gets my Wraps, and holds an Umbrella over Me, and finds my
Carriage, and helps me in, and actually' say's he hoped I shouldn’t catch cold ! A most for ward and puseikg Young Man ! ”
Gorgius Midas, Esq., Junior. “What rot yer tore. Mother! Pushihg, indeed! "Why, it’s Lord Bayard of Grandison, and
he’s got a Hundred Thousand a year, and that’s his Wife and Sister with him?” [Collapse of Lady Midas.
A RURAL-URBAN
ROUNDELAY.
As down in Covent
Garden
At leisure I did go,
Outside the fruit and
flowers for sale
In the Market all on
show,
Amongst a hodge-podge
litter
Of rubbish and waste
strewed round,
Stalks, roots, and cab-
bage-leaves, shucks,
and greens,
And offal about the
ground,
There I espied a Party,
And unto him did
t say
“ Wun’t thee employ no
scavengers
To cart mud-salad
away ? ”
“ I wun’t employ no sca-
vengers
I tell’ee I wun’t—so
there !
But I manes to live a
Landlord,
And still the Crownet
wear.”
Sir Gorgius. “Society’s gettin’ much too mixed, yer Ladyship ! I can assure you»
when Lady' M.’s a drivin’ about London in one of ’er hopen Carriages, she ardly
dares look up, for fear o’ seein’ someone she knows on the top of a Homnibus,!
The Lady Gwendoline Beaumanoir. “ Yes, very sad ! By the way, I’m afraid she ll
often see Papa there ; but never Me, you know ! Mamma and I always go Inside !
CHRISTMAS NUM-
BERS.
(As we find them.)
One, two,
Nightshade and Rue ;
Three, four.
Goblins and gore ;
Five, six,
Gehenna and Styx ;
Seven, eight,
Pitiless fate ;
Nine, ten,
Murderous men ;
Eleven, twelve,
Graves that they delve ;
Thirteen, fourteen,
Vampires a^courtin’ ;
Fifteen, sixteen.
Spectres with fixt een ;
Seventeen, eighteen,
Detectives in waitin’ ;
Nineteen, twenty,—
Dash it! that’s plenty !
Such are the wonderful
witch-broth ingredi-
ents,
Fiendish devices, and
bogie expedients
Writh which yule-tide
writers haunt inno-
cent slumbers.
And freeze youthful
blood in—so-called—
Christmas Numbers I