The Punster's Pocket-book Part 18

TO LORD NELSON. BY PETER PINDAR.

_With his Lordship's night-cap, that caught fire on the Poet's head, as he was reading in bed at Merton._

Take your night-cap again, my good lord, I desire, For I wish not to keep it a minute; What belongs to a Nelson, where'er there is fire, Is sure to be instantly in it.

ON THE COUNTESS OF B----, WHO WAS RUINED AT THE GAMING TABLE.

_Card-table epitaph._

Clarinda reign'd the queen of _hearts_, Like sparkling _diamonds_ were her eyes; Till by the knave of _clubs'_ false arts, Here bedded by a _spade_ she lies.

ADAM AND MACADAM.

"The Macadamized streets are extremely _dusty_."-- _Morning Paper._

Adam was made of borrow'd dust; So says the Bible; and, 'tis plain, Macadam, to discharge the trust, To dust turns all the _ways of men_.

THE INQUEST, BY E. KNIGHT, COMEDIAN.

_A hint to clever men employed on such occasions._

"Poor Peter Pike is drown'd, and neighbours say The jury mean _to sit on him_ to day."

"Know'st thou for what?" said Tom.--Quoth Ned, "no doubt 'Tis merely done _to squeeze the water out_."

BY HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF SUSs.e.x.

_Royal Pun-Dit._

Come, lament, all ye _Rogers_, of punning renown, Whose praises are sung by the[24] Puss s.e.x, For the pun of all puns that enraptures the town Is the last by his big Grace of Sus-s.e.x.

In dispensing last week the Dispensary toasts, And telling the names of its Patrons, He stumbled on two, of whom Watling Street boasts, No matter if spinsters or matrons.

First came Mrs. Church, and then came Mrs. Bliss: Said his Grace "Were such joys ever given!

We enter the first--for the way we can't miss: We enter the second--'_tis Heaven_!"

[24] Puss, a domestic animal--allegorically a mature spinster--_a tabby_.--Johnson.

TO HOWARD PAYNE, THE COMPILER OF "BRUTUS."

Your _prose_ and _verse_ alike are bad, Methinks you both transpose; Your _prose_ e'en like your _verse_ runs mad, And all your _verse_ is _prose_.

DR. WALCOT TO SHIELD THE COMPOSER.

_The following was sent to Shield, the ingenious Composer, for his Ivory Ticket of admission to a Concert, by his friend Peter Pindar._

Son of the _string_, (I do not mean _Jack Ketch_, Though Jack, like _thee_, produceth _dying tones_,) Oh! yield thy pity to a starving wretch, And for to-morrow's _treat_, pray send thy _bones_!

BY LORD BYRON,

_On Southey's house being on fire._

Pierios vatis Theodori flamma Penates, Abstulit: hoc Musis, hoc tibi, Phbe, placet?

O scelus, o magnum facinus, crimenque deorum, Non arsit pariter quod domus et dominus.

_Martial_, Lib. xi. Epig. 94.

The Laureate's house hath been on fire! the Nine All smiling saw that pleasant bonfire shine: But, cruel fate! Oh d.a.m.nable disaster!

The house--the house is burnt, and not the master!

GEORGE TIERNEY, M.P.

_The Inclosure Bill._

If 'tis a crime in man or woman, A goose to pilfer from a common; What can a parliament excuse, To steal a _common_ from a _goose_?

ON THE MARRIAGE OF MISS LITTLE,

_A lady remarkably short in stature._

Thrice happy Tom--I think him so; For mark the poet's song,-- "Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little _long_."

ON SIGNOR B. OF THE KING'S THEATRE, WHO RAN AWAY FROM HIS CREDITORS.

His _time_ was _quick_, his _touch_ was fleet, Our gold he nimbly _finger'd_; Alike alert with _hands_ and _feet_, His _movements_ have not linger'd.

Where lies the wonder of the case?

A moment's thought detects it; His _practice_ has been _thorough-ba.s.s_, A _chord_ will be his exit.

SHERIDAN AND HIS SON TOM.

A father and son much addicted to drink, Sat each quaffing his grog with high glee; Said the parent, "Why, Tom, thou dost drink mighty deep, Though you'll say that you take _after_ me."

"No, _father_," cried Tom, "I will never say so, Nor _do_ so, I hope, by St. Paul; For, 'tis certain, that if I did _take after you_, I should drink _scarcely any at all_!"