PARODY FOR A REFORMED PARLIAMENT. THE quality of bribery is deep stained; It dirts both him that gives, and him that takes. Low blacklegs more than servants of the Crown. Whereby 'tis managed that a bad horse wins: It was the attribute to Gatton's self; And other boroughs most like Gatton show PUNCH. When bribery smothers conscience. Therefore, you, Should lose your franchise: we do dislike bribery; THE WAITER. I MET the waiter in his prime At a magnificent hotel; His hair, untinged by care or time, Was oiled and brushed exceeding well. Within a year we met once more, PUNCH Still, when I shouted "Waiter, bread!" As if he'd say with toss of head, Time takes us on through many a grade; I and the waiter met again At a small inn at Ongar; Still, when I call'd, 't was almost vain- I've marked him now for many a year; I sometimes see the waiter still; 'Gainst want he wages feeble strife; He's at the bottom of the hill, Downward has been his path through life Of" waiter, waiter," there are cries, Which louder grow and stronger; 'Tis to old Time he now replies, "Wait a little longer." THE LAST APPENDIX TO "YANKEE DOODLE." YANKEE DOODLE sent to Town His goods for exhibition; Every body ran him down, And laugh'd at his position. They thought him all the world behind ; Laugh on, good people-never mind Says quiet YANKEE DOODLE. Chorus.-YANKEE DOODLE, etc. YANKEE DOODLE had a craft, And he challenged, while they laughed, Their whole yacht-squadron she outsped, O'er Panamà there was a scheme PUNCH, 1851. Short route-which many thought a dream-- JOHN BULL discussed the plan on foot, With slow irresolution, While YANKEE DOODLE went and put Chorus.-YANKEE DOODLE, etc. A steamer of the COLLINS line, Have been and bought her-just to tow Chorus.-YANKEE DOODLE, etc. Your gunsmiths of their skill may crack, By YANKEE DOODLE, too, you're beat With his machine for reaping wheat, Chorus.-YANKEE DOODLE, etc. You also fancied, in your pride, Them British locks of yourn defied The rogues of all creation; But CHUBBS' and BRAMAH'S HOBBS has pick'd, Chorus.-YANKEE DOODLE, etc. LINES FOR MUSIC. PUNCH. COME Strike me the harp with its soul-stirring twang, The drum shall reply with its hollowest bang; Up, up in the air with the light tamborine, Through which the gay traveler actively bounds. With the voice of the public the statesman must chime, As an instrument merely whereon he can play. The Scene represents Ludgate Hill in the middle of the day; Passengers, Omnibuses, etc., etc., passing to and fro. MEADOWS enters, musing. Meadows. I stand at last on Ludgate's famous hill; Starts from the shop, and rushing through the roof, [Turns round, musing, and looks into a shop window. Enter PRIGWELL, talking to himself. Prigwell. I've made a sorry day of it thus far; And nothing found-some business must be done. |