E-text prepared by Malcolm Farmer, Lesley Halamek,
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Punch, or the London Charivari
Volume 105, November 11th 1893
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
POLICE PROTECTION FOR PIANISTS!!
Made necessary by the antics of the Padded-roomski Devotees at St. James's hall, whorush at, try to embrace, and deck with Roses, a certain Master whenever he appears.
A QUESTION OF TINT.
["Who will paint London?"—Daily News.]
What a question to ask! If the colour be blue,
A batch of our London Minervas will do:
For each one will dye—the allusion is shocking—
Our town and its streets with the tint of her stocking.
Our pessimist frauds and the Ibsensite pack
Will groan as they thickly bedaub it in black.
Asiatic Sir Edwin, the Poet of Light,
He will wipe out their work, and arrange it in white.
Then the Company-gulls will arrive on the scene,
And, presto, the colour of London is green.
And a rare crew of "Johnnies" will stay out of bed
Till the daylight appears, while they paint the town red.
In fact—and you'll thank me for giving the hint—
Painting London is merely a question of tint.
Mrs. R. cannot call to mindwhere the original picture of"The Waterloo Blanket" isto be seen.
THE NOBLE ORGAN-GRINDER.
["Lord Brassey never goes on a cruise, howevershort, without taking with him a very costlybarrel-organ. He plays on it regularly for sometime every evening, as he finds it a congenial formof exercise and amusement."—The World.]
Grinder, when serenely grinding
On your yacht the Hundredth Psalm,
Tell me, are you truly finding
In this work congenial charm?
"Music hath" (an old quotation)
"Charms to soothe the savage breast,"
Think how you might lull some nation
Into dilettante rest.
Grinder, gentle-hearted Grinder,
Try the savage who has spurned
Culture, for he might grow kinder,
Soothed by barrel deftly turned.
Matabele Lobengula
(Accent on penultimate)
Might be made by music, you'll a-
gree, a model potentate.
Orpheus like, you might so charm him
That a mere Mashona child's
Hand could easily disarm him
In those equatorial wilds.
He would cease to wear his skimpy
Kilts that leave his legs half bare,
He would soon disband his impi;
Culture then would be his care.
Suits of dittos clothe this whopper;
Patent leather boots be got;
You might lead him—"smash, my topper!"—