Punch, or The London Charivari | Page 8

* * * * *
THE LOST JOKE.
(_A SONG OF A SAD BUT COMMON EXPERIENCE._)

Air:--"_The Lost Chord._"
[Illustration]
Seated one day in my study I was listless and ill at ease, And my
fingers twiddled idly With the novel upon my knees. I know not where
I was straying On the poppy-clustered shore, But I suddenly struck on a
Sparkler Which fairly made me roar.
I have joked some jokes in my time, Sir, But this was a Champion Joke,
And it fairly cut all record As a humoristic stroke. It was good for a
dozen of dinners, It was fit to crown my fame As a shaper of sheer
Side-splitters, For which I have such a name.
It flooded my spirit's twilight Like the dawn on a dim dark lake, For I
knew that against all rivals It would fairly "take the cake." I said I will
try it to-morrow,-- I won't even tell my wife,-- It will certainly fetch
Lord FUMFUDGE, And then--I am made for life!
It links two most distant meanings Into one perfect chime-- * * * * *
Here my servant broke the silence, And said it was dinner-time! * * * *
* I have sought, but I seek it vainly, That great Lost Joke of mine,
Which had slipped from my mind entirely When I sat me down to dine.
It may be that something some day May bring it me back again; But I
only wish--confound it!-- I had fixed it with pencil or pen. It may be
that luck--bright Angel!-- May inspire me once more with that stroke,
But I fear me 'tis only in Limbo I shall light on my great Lost Joke!
* * * * *
MRS. R., who has been busy with her juniors, tells us that she has been
horrified to learn from her Nephew, who has been fighting the
Slave-hunters on the Congo, that in that country they "preserve" the
bodies of their enemies. He writes to her--"I have 'potted' several
Arabs."
* * * * *

[Illustration: "AU REVOIR!"
SCENE--_NO. 10, DOWNING STREET. EXTERIOR._
S-L-SB-RY AND B-LF-R. "TA! TA! TAKE CARE OF THE HOUSE,
OLD MAN! BACK AGAIN SOON!"
[Exeunt "B. and S."]
* * * * *
[Illustration: FROM THE PARTICULAR TO THE GENERAL.
"I SAY, OLD CHAPPIE--WHAT TREMENDOUS HIGH CHAIRS
YOU'VE GOT--ONE'S FEET POSITIVELY DANGLE!"]
* * * * *
THE SONG OF THE BAR.
Work, work, work! Sang HOOD, in the "_Song of the Shirt_," Of the
seamstress slave who worked to her grave In poverty, hunger, and dirt.
Work, work, work! The Bar-maid, too, can say, Work for ten hours, or
more; Oh, for "eight hours" a day!
Is she a happier slave Where gilding and mirrors abound? Of what can
she think when eternal drink Is the cry of all around? Stand, stand,
stand! Serving sots from far and near; Stand, stand, stand! More
whiskey! More brandy! More beer!
Possibly some one may say, "What can that matter to us? She is frail,
frivolous, gay; She is not worth a fuss." Prig, all her life is a snare, You,
so excessively good, Would pity her rather if there Once for ten hours
you stood.
How would you feel at the end? You may not think she is fit, Quite, for
your sister's friend-- Is she too wicked to sit? Stand stand, stand! In the
smoke of pipe and cigar, Always to think of eternal drink; Oh, pity the
Slave of the Bar!

* * * * *
BY A RIBBON GIRL WHO HAS BEEN TO FRANCE.--"Sure the
town itself must be full of go-a-head young women that a decent
female wouldn't be seen spaking to--else why is it called
_Belle-Fast_?"
* * * * *
THE OPERA IN THE FUTURE.
(_AS SUGGESTED BY "MUSICAL PAUPERS."_)
SCENE--_Interior of Covent Garden on a Subscription Night. The
house is filled in the parts reserved for Subscribers. The remainder of
the Auditorium is less crowded. The Overture is over, when there is a
loud cry for the Manager. Enter before the Curtain Courteous
Gentleman, who bows, and waits in an attitude of respectful attention._
_Person in the Amphitheatre._ I say, Mister, look 'ere, after charging
me sixpence for a seat, I'm 'anged if they don't want an extra penny for
a bill of the play.
_Courteous Gentleman._ Highly improper, Sir. I will look into the
matter to-morrow, and if you are kind enough to identify the attendant
who has attempted this overcharge, I will have him dismissed. And
now, with your permission, your Royal Highnesses, my Lords, Ladies,
and Gentlemen, we will go on with the Musical performances.
[_The Opera continues. At the end of the Third Act there is another cry
for the Manager. The Courteous Gentleman re-enters before the Curtain,
as