Mr. Punch on the Warpath Part 15

_Loung._ Yes, but it stands to reason that it _can't_ be as popular as Wimbledon.

_Marks._ My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the history of the a.s.sociation we never had more entries than this year.

_Loung._ That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer town.

_Marks. (laughing)._ Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not pleasure! And now, old man, I really _must_ be off. Ta! ta! See you later.

[_Exit._

Loung. Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon. And as there doesn't seem much for _me_ to do down here, I shall return to town.

[_Does so. Curtain._

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Irascible Lieutenant (down engine-room tube)._ "Is there a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?"

_Voice from Engine-room._ "Not at this end, sir!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: VOLO EPISCOPARI.

_Festive Middy._ "I say, guv'nor! I think you must rather like being Bishop here!"

_His Lordship._ "Well, my boy, I hope I do! But why do you ask?"

_Festive Middy._ "Oh, I've just been taking a walk through the city,--and I _say_!--there _is_ an uncommonly good-looking lot o' girls about, and _no_ mistake!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A NASTY ONE.

_Colonel Smithson (of the Poonah Marines)._ "By the way, my boy at Sandhurst hopes to get into your regiment some day."

_Little Simpson (of the Royal Hussars Green)._ "Aw--I--aw hope your son is up to _our form!_"

_Colonel Smithson._ "_Your form!_ Dash it, he's over four feet high, anyhow!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CAUTION.

_Old Gent (with difficulty)._ "Now really--Oh! this dis--graceful crowding--I'm--I'm positive my gun will go off!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHEEK.

_(The regiment is about to "march out" with twenty rounds of "blank cartridge.")_

_Sub-Lieutenant (of twenty-four hours' service)._ "Whereabouts is this pyrotechnic display of yours coming off, Colonel!!?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OVERHEARD AT PORTSMOUTH.

_Jack._ "Well, Polly la.s.s, if it's true as 'ow you're going to get spliced to Bill, all I 'opes is that he'll stick to you through thick and thin!"

_Polly._ "Well, 'e _ought_ to, Jack. 'E works in a glue factory."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Awful bore, dear old chap. War offith won't have me, thimply becauth my eyethight ith tho doothed bad!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ARMS OF PRECISION

_Volunteer Subaltern (as the enemy's scout continues to advance in spite of expenditure of much "blank" ammunition)._ "If that infernal yeoman comes any nearer, shy stones at him, some of you!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A FORLORN HOPE

_Captain O'Dowd (of the firm of O'Dowd and Jones, stock-jobbers)._ "What'll I do now? It's beyond me jumpin' powers, an' if I wade I'll be wet to the waist." _(To Private Halloran, who in civil life is a stockbroker's clerk)._ "Here, Halloran, I want a carry over. You do it for me, an' I'll not forget it to you, me lad."

_Private Halloran._ "Sorry I can't, Captain. You know carryin'-over day is not till the sixteenth, an' this is only the seventh!"]

A LAY OF THE UNION JACK

(_By a patriotic c.o.c.kney_)

Though I feel less at home on the bounding wave Than I do on the firm dry land, I can spin you a yarn of a right good craft That is true-British owned and manned.

The winds may blow, and the storms may beat, And the hurricanes rage and roar, But "the ship I love" on her course will hold With the Union Jack at the fore.

Fair weather or foul, she ploughs along, Leaving far astern the strand, And many a towering sister bark We pa.s.s on the starboard hand, And, Westward ho! as we bear away!

I can count stout ships galore, Abeam, in our wake, and ahead, that fly The Union Jack at the fore.

And the sight of the flag that has swept the seas, Nor ever has known disgrace, Makes even a landlubber's bosom swell With the pride of his English race.

At that gallant sight in my landsman's heart I rejoice--and rejoice still more That I'm only aboard of a road-car 'bus, With the Union Jack at the fore!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "USED TO IT!"--_Officer at firing-point (who thinks that it's raining)._ "Sergeant Mauchline, hadn't you better wear your greatcoat till it's your turn to fire?" _Sergeant Mauchline (frae the "Land of Lorne")._ "Hoo! Nothe noo! I'll pit it on when it comes wat!"]