But the Bobby, the policeman, And perhaps I should not see you, With my back turned right upon you." Only grinned and seemed to linger. Quick then Pip pulled up the Fluffer, Down he threw them on the pathway; Incorruptible policeman, Picked them up, and whispered softly, After that did Pip, the smoker, Did not see them get across it; For he happened to be looking In an opposite direction, And his back was turned upon them. From Odd Echoes from Oxford, by A. Merion, B. A. London. J. C. Hotten, 1872. THE SONG OF NICOTINE. SHOULD you ask me why this meerschaum, Why these clay-pipes and churchwardens, Why the odours of tobacco, With the oil and fume of "mixture," With the curling smoke of "bird's eye," I should answer, I should tell you, Should you ask how this Havana Made cigars so strong and soothing, Made the "bird's eye," and "York-river," I should answer, I should tell you, In the purlieus of the cities, In the cellars of the warehouse, In the dampness of the dungeon, Lie the rotten weeds that serve him; In the gutters and the sewers, In the melancholy alleys, Crossing-sweepers bring them to him, For those clay-pipes and churchwardens, On the box in which he sells them. From Figaro. October 7, 1874. The following is an extract from a long parody contained in Lays of Modern Oxford, by Adon (Chapman and Hall, 1874). THE BUMP SUPPER. "Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus." You shall hear how once our college, When our boat had done great wonders, And had bumped all boats before it, Gave a great and grand bump-supper. First the scouts, the sherry-swiggers, And the scouts' boys, beer imbibers, Spread the things upon the table. And they placed upon the table When the reading man, the bookworm, From their rooms in groups assembled Many guests to this great supper. Came the cricketers in numbers, Came the athletes clothed with muscle, All were hungry, all were merry, Thus the guests, the mutton munchers, * Then a man, who came from Cornwall, Sang a song that clearly stated If a person named Trelawny, Lady with the Grecian bend, and With both eyes and hair of darkness. Then the guests said, "Sing some more songs; Sing to us immortal Ginger, Songs of laughter quaint and comic, That we all may be more noisy. And the sleeping dons may waken." All was shouting, noise, confusion, THE LEGEnd of Ken-e-li. (From Figaro, August 11, 1875.) HIGH among the tribes of Jon-buls, When he spake they shouted, "Bun-kum!" The poem then describes the gentle manners of the inhabitants of the district An-lee, their mild sports and pastimes, and how they chose the great Ken-e-li to be their talking Em-pee in the council of their nation, and the manner in which he was received there. THE SONG OF THE BEETLE. [The following graceful effusion, by a well-known Longfellow-countryman of the Colorado insect, should be hailed with delight by the British public. As it contains an accurate description of the Beetle, we would suggest that it should be learned by heart by school-children, with a view to preventing entomological mistakes.] SHOULD you ask me of the Beetle, Properly the Doryphora Decemlineata christen'd- I should answer, I should tell you, "He's a beggar for potatoes, Quite a glutton at potatoes For he wolfs' the common 'murphy.' The Solanum tuberosum. (Thus the savans named the tater! '') Should you ask me if the Beetle Him whom boys impale on pin-point I should straight reply in this wise : But, when fourteen days have glided, Should you further ask the poet, I should answer, I should bid you, In the roadway, or the meadow- From Funny Folks. In 1879 the editor of The World offered two prizes for the best parodies on Longfellow's Hiawatha, the subject selected being The Hunting of Cetewayo. There were 135 competitors, the first prize was awarded to Floreant - Lauri, whose poem will be found, with the three next best, in The World for October 8, 1879. THE HUNTING OF CETEWAYO. * This appears to be a covert allusion to the lady-bird. From the farthest dingey-donga Then cried Giffey-Wiffey loudly, "When you catchee, when you catchee !" Like a kangaroo he bounded; Seven long days and nights he hurried, In the centre of the forest Stood a kraal, here faint and weary Then he came forth in his blanket And he spoke, "White soldier, shoot me!?? FLOREANT-LAURI (JAMES M. LOWRY). THE HUNTING OF CETEWAYO. FULL of anger was Sir Garnet Through his thick moustache he mutter'd Dire words of blood and thunder. Raging like an angry tiger "I will nobble Cetewayo, Bag this horrid rascal," said he ; "Not so wide the realm of Zulus, Not so terrible the bye-ways, That my anger shall not nail him, That my vengeance shall not spot him!" Through the bush where he had hidden, Heard the tramp of many footsteps, All his plottings and his schemings, From Snatches of Song, by F. B. Doveton, 1880. HIAWATHA'S PHOTOGRAPHING. Author's Preface. ("In an age of imitation, I can claim no special merit for this slight attempt at doing what is known to be so easy. Any fairly practised writer, with the slightest ear for rhythm, could compose, for hours together, in the easy running metre of 'The Song of Hiawatha.'") FROM his shoulder Hiawatha But he opened out the hinges, Pushed and pulled the joints and hinges, In the Second Book of Euclid. This he perched upon a tripod- All the family in order, Sat before him for their pictures; First the Governor, the Father, Of a rosewood dining-table. Grand, heroic, was the notion: Next to him the eldest daughter : man's knock. I WAS sitting in my wigwam, Looking from my lofty wigwam, On the fir-clad hill of Dryburgh, O'er the vale of Pepperhanger. Suddenly there came a rapping, The Post- Double rapping, double tapping, Sounding through the little wigwam, Startling quiet Pepperhanger. Thus the Government Messénjah, Heathen Mercury of brazen buttons, Mytho- Crimson-collared, azure-coated, logy. Blue as when some ancient Briton, As enlightenment came o'er him, Thinking skin was rather shabby, History of Went and put a coat of Woad on. England. He, the carrier of all letters, He, the bearer of all tidings To the lofty hill of Dryburgh, To the vale of Pepperhanger. Swiftly then I took the letter; Eagerly I read the message From a hospitable lady Of the vale of Pepperhanger, "Come at four o'clock to tiffin, If no better action urges ; In the cool of Tuesday evening, Come and play a game of Tennis On my lawns at Pepperhanger. Thus her letter: then I sallied To her almost hidden wigwam. Which from East and rude Sou'-wester Evergreen the pine-tree shelters; Took my Tennis shoes of rubber, Mocassins of Indian rubber Racket, too, of Horace Bayley, To the tournament of Tennis On the lawns of Pepperhanger. Lodge's Came the lordly Tennyslornah. Peerage. Came the Reverend B. A. Kander, Clergy Came the cute 'un, Charley Pleycynge, List. Came the masher, young de Vorley, Came the great Sir V. O. Verandah, Came the warrior, Foragh Biscoe, Strangers from a distant countrie, To the tournament of Tennis In the vale of Pepperhanger. There we had a game at Tennis, Outdoor Tennis let us call it, Lest the Lords of real Tennis Should invoke a curse upon us; Hotly smote the fierce back-hander, Volleyed toward, also froward, Till the speeding ball appeared as One continuous flash of lightning: Sludgeboroughin-theMarsh. The late Mr. Shirley Brooks composed a number of clever parodies, many of which were contributed to Punch during his Editorship of that journal. Three of the longest and most amusing of these were The Very Last Idyll, after Tennyson; The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, after Coleridge; and The Song of Hiawatha, after Longfellow. A quotation from The Very Last Idyll was given on page 44; and the parody on Coleridge will be quoted when that author is reached; the parody of Longfellow, which appeared in Punch as far back as January, 1856, commenced thus:: THE SONG OF HIAWATHA. When he published former poems, Mars he gave the Night's First Watches, Should you ask me, Is the poem Of the songs that gemmed the eyelash, Of the other works of Henry? I should answer, I should tell you Read and learn, and then be thankful Punch and noble Henry Wadsworth. Than to be annoyed at jesting From his friend, great Punch, who loves him. The following is a list of famous advertisers of thirty years ago, taken from Hiawater, a parody contained in "The Shilling Book of Beauty," by Cuthbert Bede (J. Blackwood, 1853): "Howlawaya, the quack doctor; Mechisteel and Warrenblacking ; Stand like Druids of old, with voices sad and prophetic, Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms, Loud from its ligneous caverns, the deep-voiced neighbouring organ Moans, and in accents disconsolate answers the orchestra wailing. This is the music primeval, and when it is ended, Herr Wagner Is called to the front, and is crowned with a wreath by the Madame Materna; Then there is hugging and kissing and weeping with Wagner Wilhelmj, And Richter, to whom is presented a baton-brand new, silver-mounted; But where are the beautiful maidens who solemnly sat in the boxes? Where are the men-tawny swells-who talked of clubs, races, or billiards, Silenced from time unto time by thunders and earthquakes orchestral ? Empty are boxes and stalls, the occupants all have departed, And the critic goes-glad to survive the music primeval of Wagner. Funny Folks. Another parody of Evangeline, entitled Picnicaline occurs in Mirth and Metre, by Frank E. Smedley, and Edmund Yates. London, 1855. |