Slike strani

Strong for the right, and strong in the light, strong still in

his tongue ; And peers shall go down before him, though the “feller" is

not young: Welcome him back, my brothers, from the North land far

away, Soon shall we liberty see, brothers, when Willy has won the day.

JAMES G. MEAGIER. The Weekly Disparih, September 14, 1884.

(Parody Competition).

And so he soon resolved to do the same
As in the book he read that Enoch did.
To carry out his plan he sent word home,
By trusty shipmate, to his Susan Ann,
That he was drowned. He really did not care
A great deal for his once-loved Susan Ann,
Who, when the knot had but been tied a year,
Had clearly showed that she could be the boss.
So time sped on, and artful Hunky Sam
In foreign climates had a jolly time
For several years.

“I think I'll homewarı sail,”
One day he said, “and see how Susan Ann
Gets on ; like Enoch, I will softly glide
Towards the cottage there upon the cliff,
And see how she makes out with her new man,
For she is doubtless wedded once again,
Just like that Mrs. Arden in the book.”
Away he sailed across the sounding surge
(A good expression that, but not my own),
And soon he reached his village on the coast.
'Twas night. He crept towards the little cot
Where once he'd dwelt. A light was burning clear ;
He peered in through the window. Susan Ann
Was there, but t’other fellow was away.
llis wife glanced up: she saw the faithless Sam ;
She sprang towards him-grabbed him by the hair
And held him there, whilst with her other arm
She dealt him myriad thwacks with broomstick stout.
“You would," she cried--"you would say you were dead,
And with your foreign gals go cuttin' up;
And leave me here to take in washing-eh ?
You wretch ! take that, and that, and that, and that !"
Each “that” being followed by a sickening thud.

The curtain falls on this delightful scene,
As space is precious and will not permit
Of further details ; but this goes to show
That things don't always turn out just the same
As those we read about in poets' yarns.
Another thing it shows-that Susan Ann
llad learned a trick when playing at being wed
Upon the seashore in her youthful days
That stood her in good stead in after years-
The wielding of the broomstick here is meant.

Scraps, August 1884.

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(Not by A.-T., Esq.)
I STEAL by lawns, to check the train

Of meditations started
By seeing duns that come in vain

For happy men departed.
By empty rooms I hurry down,

So stumbling down the staircase ;
The cads within the sleepy town

Think mine a very rare case.
I hail a boat, and down I row

Along the lonely river,
For other lucky men may go,

But I seem here for ever.
I murmur under moon and stars,

I feel in lunar plirenzy,
I chide the cursed fate that bars

My exit from B. N. C.
I slope, I slouch, I speed, I stop,

And scan the empty High Street,
I turn me into Boffin's shop,

To cheer me with an ice-treat,
Till ice and sad reflection slow

My diaphragm make quiver,
For other lucky men may go,

But I seem here for ever.
I roam about, and in and out

Poke eyes with envy yellow,
And here and there I spy a scout,

And here and there a fellow.
And here and there a good mamma,

Her squalling baby nursing,
Looks on me pitying, with an

Poor fellow, how he's cursing !"
For, sailor like, I storm and “blow

My eyes” and “limbers shiver,"
That other lucky men may go,
But I seem here for ever.

BRASENOSE COLLEGE, Oxford. College L'hymis, 1870.



AFTER TENNYSON'S “GRANDMOTHER." And Willy, with Franchise horn, is gone to blow in the

North ! Sturdy, though white, and strong on his legs, bravely hold

ing forth; And Willy's wise is with him—she ever was true and wise, Always a wise for Willy-he often takes her advice. l'or madame, you see, is clever ; she loves her Franchise

Bill, And he can talk so reacy, and manage the Scots with skill. Pretty enough, very pretty! I won't say against it for one. Eh ! but my Lords shall fear him—when Willy his task has

done. Willy, my beauty, my chieftain true, the flower of the flock, Never a lord can move him, for Willy stands like a roch. Ile has always a word for the weak, for crofter and fellaheen There ne'er was his like in the land, since Eightcen-thirty


THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. Afler Tennyson (ani a long way after, too). With many a care my life's beset,

My charms are growing mellow, And I have not secured as yet

An eligible fellow.

too ;


I sing, I play, and through the dance

I skim like any swallow ; The ladies look at me askance,

And say I'm vain and shallow, I chatter, chatter as I go,

And some pronounce me clever. But the men that come they're awfully slow, And pop the question nei'er, never.

Pop the question never, never,

Pop the question never.
I gad about, and in and out

My hopeless fate bewailing ;
And think with secret pain and doubt

Of youth and beauty failing.
A youth there is for whose dear sake

To distant lands I'd travel ;
I thought he would an offer make

One evening on the gravel,
He spoke ir accents soft and low,

But word of love came never.
The men that come are sure to go,
And some take leave for ever,

Some take leave for ever, ever,
Some take leave for ever.

I strive by many cunning plots,

Their feelings to discover,
And sometimes sweet forget-me-nots

Present to backward lover ;
And though with costly gems from far,

I deck my shining tresses,
And though I sing of love and war,

And sport becoming dresses,
'Tis all in vain this idle show,

I'll gain their favour never.
For men may come and men may go,
But I'm stuck fast for ever,

I'm stuck fast for ever, ever,

I'm stuck fast for ever. The Harborne Parish Church Bazaar News (Birmingham), September 26, 1874.

“Till last by Barking Creek I go,

A thick, pestiserous river ;
And tides may ebb, and tides may low,

But I smell on for ever !
“I fill with scum my little lays,

I coat with slime my pebbles ; The mud I leave on winter days

The summer drought soon Irelles. “ With many a stench the air I hill,

With many an odour setid ; And epidemics I distil

Throughout the dog-days heated. “I churn contagion as I go,

A foul, filth-sodden river ;
For tides may ebb, and tides may flow,

But I smell on for ever !
"I wind about, and in and out,

With here a dead cat floating,
And here a party seized, past doubt,

With sickness whilst they're boating. " And Water Companies extract

My water as I travel,
Til! Í for miles am nought, in fact,

But banks of mud and gravel.
“ In short, if they thus pump me dry,

And list to reason never, Whilst Londoners are talking, I

Shall just flow off for ever !
“ As 'tis, the fish are well nigh killed

In all my urban reaches ;
And places once with gudgeon filled

Are now too dry for leeches. “ I ruin lawns and grassy plots

By foul deposits spreading ;
I blight the sweet forget-me-nots

From Twickenham to Reading.
“I crawl, I creep, I smell, I smear,

Amongst my oozy shallows; I so pollute the atmosphere

It quite knocks-up the swallows. “I grow each season more impure,

As every one's remarking ; I am an open running sewer

From Teddington to Barking. “ And so upon my course I go,

A foul, pestiferous river,
And tides may ebb, and tides may llow,
But I smell on for ever!"

Truth, July 31, 1884.

Flow down, old river, to the sea,

Thy tribute-muck deliver !
But take this comfort, Thames, from Me,
This shan't go on for ever!

Punch, August 23, 1884.


OLD FATHER THAMES, loy. ««•I come from haunts of coot and hern,'

From ’neath green serns I sally ; But into me they quickly turn

The sewage of my valley! • By fifty sewer mouths I pass

My surface black with midges ; And bubbles huge of sewage gas

Float down beneath my bridges. “When first I babble o'er the lea,

As crystal clear I chatter ;
But twenty towns soon poison me

With foul organic matter.


(Some Way Afler Tennyson). 'Tis an ill wind thus blows me out,

From home I must be sailing, Whilst here the rest will chase, no doubt,

The grouse with zest unfailing.

I'm sent to watch by Nile's swift flow.

Confound that ancient river ! M.P.'s may come, M.P.'s may go ; Must I toil on for ever ?

Punch, August 16, 1884.

PEERS, IDLE PEERS. “ The House of Lords sat last night somewhat less than a quarter of an hour, during which no business was done."

PEERS, idle Peers, I know not what they do.
Peers from the depths of their luxurious chairs
Rise in the Clubs, and saunter into the House,
In-looking on the happy Hugh, Lord Cairns,
And thinking of the Bills that are in store.
Sure as the hammer falling at a sale,
That makes us travel by the Underground,
Sad as the feeling when our bargains prove
Not quite the treasure which we hoped to find ;
So sad, so sure, the Bills that are to bore.
Ah, sad (not strange) as on dreary winter morns.
The surliest knock of half-impatient dun
To drowsy ears, ere, watched by drowsy eyes,
The tailor slowly goes across the square ;
So sad, so very sad, the bills that are in store.
Drear as repeated hisses at your Play.
And drear as dreams by indigestion caused
To those that take hot suppers ; dull as law,
Dull as dry law, and lost without regret ;
O House of Lords, the Bills that are a bore.

Punch, March 7, 1868.

To the tune of Tennyson's “ Home they brought

her warrior dead. (General Hill fell in the battle before Petersburg, and was the last man buried with military honours on the eve of the evacuation).

LAY the stern old warrior down,

Deeply in his narrow bell,
Ere the conqueror sack the town,

Ere the foeman o'er him tread.
They who checked the battle-tide--

Hoary warriors weeping said,
“ Foremost where the bravest died,

Foremost where his country bled.”
Low they laid the Pride of War,

Soldiers sternly round him mourned :
“Glorious was our battle star,

Glorious when the battle burned."
Loudly crashed the fierce farewell -

This of all his toil the crown :
Falling where his country fell,

Falling by the fallen town.
Turning from the warrior's side,

Spahe a chiestain often proved :
“Nobly for our land he died,
Nobly for the land he loved."

A. R.

EXETER COLL., Oxford. College Rhymes, 1865 (J. and G. Shrimpton, Oxford).


“Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea ;

The cloud may stoop from Heaven and take the shape,

With fold to sold, of mountain or of cape; But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee?

Ask me no more.

TENNYSON (The Frincess).

HOME they brought her husband_"tight,"

She nor moved, nor uttered cry,
Lut the l’eeler, winking said,

“Won't he get it by-and-bye.”
Then they placed him on the bed,

Called him “ Jolly dog,” “ old boy !"
Placed the pillows 'neaih his head-

Yet she showed nor grief, nor joy.
Stole her daughter from her seat

Up to where her father slept,
Pulled the boots from off his feet,

Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Then the “Bobby” took his purse,

Placed it empty on her knee,
Rose her voice as if to curse-

Not one sixpence left for me !" l'agrant Leares, Part 1, October, 1866. (A clever little illustrated magazine, of which only three numbers were issued ; they are now exceedingly scarce).

TO AN IMPORTUNATE HOST. (During Dinner, and after Tennyson). Ask me no more : I've had enough Chablis ;

The wine may come again, and take the shape,

From glass to glass, of “ Mountain " or of “Cape;" But, my dear boy, when I have answered thee,

Ask me no more.
Ask me no more : what answer should I give,

I love not pickled pork nor partridge pie ;

I feel if I took whisky I should die !
Ask me no more—for I prefer to live:

Ask me no more.
Ask me no more : unless my fate is sealed,

And I have striven against you all in vain.
Let your good butler bring me Hock again :
Then rest, dear boy. If for this once I yield,
Ask me no more.


Ilome the “ worrier comes! We read

All his words, nor uttered sigh ; But the Tories, sneering, said,

“ He must talk or he would die.” Then we praised his speeches long,

Called them worthy to be heardBrilliant thoughts and language strong ;

Still the Tories cried, “ Absurd !"

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"The Charge of the Light Brigade" is still one of the most popular of Tennyson's poems, in spite of its many faults, and defective construction. Some of its lines are, indeed, ridiculous, whilst many are ungrammatical, but the metre is pleasing, and the words have the ring of the battle about them. Tennyson, however, can claim no credit for these merits, having boldly appropriated them from Michael Drayton's poem on the Battle of Agincourt, in which the following lines occur :· They now to

ght are gone,
Armour on armour shone :
Drum now to drum did groan;

To hear was to wonder ;
That with the cries they make,
The very earth did shake,
Trumpet to trumpet spake,

Thunder to thunder.” Several parodies of “ The Charge of the Light Brigade" remain to be quoted, in addition to those already given; indeed, this poem appears to possess a peculiar attraction for imitators.

Conceited without a doubt,
Sing-song he brought it out,
Had he not learnt to spout,
Rolling his eyes about,

Amongst the two hundred.
Was not the lecture good,
Ilis for great minds the food !
See how erect he stood,
Teaching his Townsmen,

Whilst Horncastle wondered !
Surrounded by Kith and Kin,
Did he not give it in ?
“Light" was the very thing
Whereon our faith to pin.

Misled by Forbes Winslow,
The Doctor who blunderell
Then he sat down amid

Cheers from two hundred.
Kinsfolk to right of him,
Kinsfolk to left of him,
No one behind him

Listened and wondered.
Other orbs, great and small,
Took fresh light, one and all,
In the great lecture hall

From Light's special envoy.
These were but few, indeed,

Of the two hundred.
Honour Professor bold,
Long shall the tale be told ;
Aye, when our babes he old,

How he enlightened us !


The following parody was written on the occasion of a lecture on “ Light" having been given in Horncastle by the late Dr. H. G. Ward :

With half a score,

Half a score,
Half a score rings bedight,
Through the great lecture room
Staggered Professor Light.
He had been asked to speak
Fifth of December bleak,
Could he deny his squeak ?
Had he not heaps of cheek?

As on the dais
Swaggered Professor Light.
Kinsfolk to right of him,
Kinsfolk to left of him
" Buttons" in front of him,

Listened and wondered !

Half a yard-half a yard-

Half a yard onward,
Through the first crush-room

Pressed the Four Hundred. Forward—the Fair Brigade !

On to the Throne, they said: On to the Presence Room Crushed the Four Hundred.

II. Forward, the Fair Brigade ! Was there a girl dismayed ? E'en though the chaperons knew

Some one had blundered. Theirs not to make complaint, Theirs not to sink or faini, Theirs --- but words cannot paint Half the discomfiture

Of the Four Hundred.

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Crowds on the right of them,
Crowds on the left of them,
Crowds all in front of them,

Stumbled and blundered :
On through the courtier-lined
Rooms-most tremendous grind-
Into the Presence-Room,
Leaving their friends behind,

Passed the Four Hundred.

Stormed at with jeer and yell,
Truncheon and helmet fell,
Back rushed they all, pell melt,-

Ilow the force wondered ;
Many a pretty maid,
Down in the area shade,
Weeps for her Bob betrayed,
Weeps for her Blue Brigade,
Knowing they blundered.

Funny Folks, December 25, 1875.


(No. 2.)

(A! the Alexandra Palace Banquet, given to the survivors

of the Ballle of Balaclava, on October 25, 1875).

Flushed all their faces sair,
Flashed all their jewels rare,
Scratched all their shoulders bare,
Thrusting each other-while

Outsiders wondered:
Into the Presence Room,
Taking their turn they come,
Some looking very glum

O'er trains sore-sundered:-
Kiss hand, and outwards back,
Fagged, the Four Hundred !

Crowds to the right of them,
Crowds on the left of them,
Crowds all in front of them,

Stumbled and blundered -
Back through more courtier-lined
Rooms-0, tremendous grind !-
Débutantes thirsty pined
For ice or cup o' tea:
No sofas horse-hair lined,
Not a chair or settee,
Poor dear Four Hundred !

Mothers to rage gave vent,
Husbands for broughams sent,
While at mismanagement

Both sorely wondered.
Not till the sun had set,
Not till the lamps were lit,
Home from the Drawing Room
Got the Four Hundred.

Some, I heard, in despair
Of getting stool or chair,
Took to the floor, and there

Sat down and wondered.
Now, my Lord Chamberlain,
Take my advice. Again
When there's a Drawing-room,
Shut doors, and don't let in
More than Two llundred.

Punch, May 30, 1874.

PAYING sight! Left and right, Crowds pressing onward, Sharp Alexandra Board Dines the Two Hundred ! “Free passes grant them all !" Veterans, short and tallSharp Alexandra Board(Profits will not be small) Dines the Two Hundred ! “Go it, the Light Brigade !" Toast-Master, sore dismayed, Queered by those heroes' chaff, Boggled and blundered. Theirs not to speechify, Still less to make reply ; Theirs but to drain all dry,– Into the drinkables Walked the Two Hundred ! Bottles to right of them, Bottles to left of them, Bottles in front of them, While the band thundered; They knew no Captain Cork” Boldly they went to work, After the eatables Fell to their knife and fork,Thirsty Two Hundred ! À La Russe might surprise, Still they knew joints and pies, Clearing the dishes there, Relevi's and entries, while Scared waiters wondered ; Then, plunged in 'bacca smoke, Glasses and pipes they broke(omrades long sundere, Big with old iarh and joke, Gleefully met againJolly Two Hundred ! Trophies to right of them, Trophies to left of them, CARDIGAN'S charger's headl, Piously sundered ! Back they reeleil, from the spread, Straight as they could, to bedThey that had dined so wellNothing to pay per headHappy Two Hundred !

THE BATTLE OF BARTLEMY'S. Snowballs to right of them, Snowballs to lest of them, Snowballs in front of them,

Shattered and sundered.
“ Forward the Blue Brigade!
Run 'em in! Who's alraid?"
Less easy done than said:
Not in the least dismayed,
Every bold student stayed,
And at the Blue Brigade

Volleyed and thundereil.
Flashed every truncheon bare,
Helmets were tossed in air,
Robert gets quite a scare,
While every student there

llooted and peltel.

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