The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 108

What! then you won't accept it, wont you? Oh!

No matter; pshaw! my heart is breaking, though.

My bouquet is rejected; let it be: For what am I to you, or you to me?

'Tis true I once had hoped; but now, alas!

Well, well; 'tis over now, and let it pa.s.s.

I was a fool--perchance I am so still; You won't accept it! Let me dream you will: But that were idle. Shall we meet again?

Why should we? Water for my burning brain?

I could have loved thee--Could! I love thee yet Can only Lethe teach me to forget?

Oblivion's balm, oh tell me where to find!

Is it a tenant of the anguish'd mind?

Or is it?--ha! at last I see it come; Waiter! a bottle of your oldest rum.

A SERENADE.

PUNCH.

Smile, lady, smile! (BLESS ME! WHAT'S THAT?

CONFOUND THE CAT!)-- Smile, lady, smile! One glance bestow On him who sadly waits below, To catch--(A VILLAIN UP ABOVE HAS THROWN SOME WATER ON ME, LOVE!) To catch one token-- (OH, LORD! MY HEAD IS BROKEN; THE WRETCH WHO THREW THE WATER DOWN, HAS DROPPED THE JUG UPON MY CROWN)-- To catch one token, which shall be As dear as life itself to me.

List, lady, then; while on my lute I breathe soft--(NO! I'LL NOT BE QUIET; HOW DARE YOU CALL MY SERENADE A RIOT?

I DO DEFY YOU)--while upon my lute I breathe soft sighs--(YES, I DISPUTE YOUR RIGHT TO STOP ME)--breathe soft sighs.

Grant but one look from those dear eyes-- (THERE, TAKE THAT STUPID NODDLE IN AGAIN; CALL THE POLICE!--DO! I'LL PROLONG MY STRAIN), We'll wander by the river's placid flow-- (UNTO THE STATION-HOUSE!--NO, SIR, I WON'T GO; LEAVE ME ALONE!)--and talk of love's delight.

(OH, MURDER!--HELP! I'M LOCKED UP FOR THE NIGHT!)

RAILROAD NURSERY RHYME.

PUNCH.

Air--"Ride a c.o.c.k Horse."

Fly by steam force the country across, Faster than jockey outside a race-horse: With time bills mismanaged, fast trains after slow, You shall have danger wherever you go.

AN INVITATION TO THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS PUNCH.

I have found out a gig-gig-gift for my fuf-fuf-fair, I have found where the rattle-snakes bub-bub-breed; Will you co-co-come, and I'll show you the bub-bub-bear, And the lions and t.i.t-t.i.t-tigers at fuf-fuf-feed.

I know where the co-co-c.o.c.katoo's song Makes mum-mum-melody through the sweet vale; Where the mum-monkeys gig-gig-grin all the day long Or gracefully swing by the t.i.t-t.i.t-t.i.t-tail.

You shall pip-pip-play, dear, some did-did-delicate joke With the bub-bub-bear on the t.i.t-t.i.t-top of his pip-pip-pip-pole; But observe, 'tis forbidden to pip-pip-poke At the bub-bub-bear with your pip-pip-pink pip-pip-pip-pip-parasol!

You shall see the huge elephant pip-pip-play, You shall gig-gig-gaze on the st.i.t-st.i.t-stately rac.o.o.n; And then did-did-dear, together we'll stray To the cage of the bub-bub-blue-faced bab-bab-boon.

You wished (I r-r-remember it well, And I lul-lul-loved you the m-m-more for the wish) To witness the bub-bub-beautiful pip-pip-pel- ican swallow the l-l-live little fuf-fuf-fish!

THE PEOPLE AND THEIR PALACE.

IMPROVISED BY A FINE GENTLEMAN.

PUNCH.

Oh dem that absawd Cwystal Palace! alas, What a pity they took off the duty on gla.s.s!

It's having been evaw ewected, in fact, Was en-ti-a-ly owing to that foolish act.

Wha-evew they put it a cwowd it will dwaw, And that is the weason I think it a baw; I have no gweat dislike to the building, as sutch; The People is what I object to sa mutch.

The People!--I weally am sick of the wawd: The People is ugly, unpleasant, absawd; Wha-evaw they go, it is always the case, They are shaw to destroy all the chawm of the place.

Their voices are loud, and their laughter is hawse; Their fealyaws are fabsy, iwegulaw, cause; How seldom it is that their faces disclose, What one can call, pwopally speaking, a nose!

They have dull heavy looks, which appeaw to expwess Disagweeable stwuggles with common distwess; The People can't dwess, doesn't know how to walk.

And would uttaly wuin a spot like the Pawk.

That I hate the People is maw than I 'll say; I only would have them kept out of my way, Let them stay at the pot-house, wejoice in the pipe, And wegale upon beeaw, baked patatas, and twipe.

We must have the People--of that tha's no doubt-- In shawt they could not be, pahaps, done without.

If'twa not faw the People we could not have Boots Tha's no doubt that they exawcise useful pasuits.

They are all vewy well in their own pwopa spheeaw A long distance off; but I don t like them neeaw; The slams is the place faw a popula show; Don't encouwage the people to spoil Wotten Wow.

It is odd that the DUKE OF AWGYLL could pasue, So eccentwic a cawse, and LAD SHAFTESBUWY too, As to twy and pwesawve the Gla.s.s House on its site, Faw no weason on awth but the People's delight.

A "SWELL'S" HOMAGE TO MRS. STOWE PUNCH.

A must wead Uncle Tom--a wawk Which A'm afwaid's extwemely slow, People one meets begin to talk Of Mrs. HARWIETBEECHASTOWE.

'Tis not as if A saw ha name To walls and windas still confined; All that is meawly vulga fame: A don't wespect the public mind.

But Staffa'd House has made haw quite Anotha kind a pawson look, A Countess would pasist, last night, In asking me about haw book.

She wished to know if I admiawd EVA, which quite confounded me; And then haw Ladyship inqwaw'd Whethaw A did'nt hate LEGWEE?

Bai JOVE! A was completely flaw'd; A wish'd myself, or haw, at Fwance; And that's the way a fella's baw'd By ev'wy gal he asks to dance.

A felt myself a gweat a fool Than A had evaw felt befaw; A'll study at some Wagged School The tale of that old Blackamaw!

THE EXCLUSIVE'S BROKEN IDOL.

PUNCH.