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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, July 25, 1917
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forgotten. The family feud (there must have been one, I'm certain) which has kept the Pethertons and the Fordyces apart for the last couple of centuries is a thing of the past, now that we two understand each other so thoroughly. I am only sorry I did not discover the strawberry mark on your left arm earlier, that I might the sooner have subscribed myself.
Your long lost HARRY.
This either disarmed him or he threw away his weapon in disgust.
British Tar (confidentially to lady friend). "SHE'S SUNK ALL RIGHT.""Other houses have a good many books which have come down from posterity, mostly in odd volumes."—"Claudius Clear" in "The British Weekly."
Some of those that we bequeath to our ancestors will be quite as odd.
It is rumoured that during the period of food-control a well-known Soho restaurant intends to change its name to the "Rhondda-vous."
Busy City-man to his Partner (as one of the new air-raid warnings gets to work). "IF YOU'LL LEAVE ME IN HERE FOR THE WARNINGS I'LL CARRY ON WHILE YOU TAKE SHELTER DURING THE RAIDS."THE LITTLE THINGS.
I used to be a peaceful chap as didn't ask for trouble,
An' as for rows an' fightin', why, I'd mostly rather not,
But now I'd charge an army single-'anded at the double,
An' it's all along o' little things I've learned to feel so 'ot.
It's 'orrid seein' burnin' farms, which I 'ave often seen 'ere,
An' fields all stinks an' shell-'oles, an' the dead among the flowers,
But the thing I've 'ated seein' all the bloomin' time I've been 'ere
Is the little gardens rooted up—the same as might be ours
It's bad to see the chattos—which means castles—gone to ruins,
And big cathedrals knocked to bits as used to look that fine,
But what puts me in a paddy more than all them sort o' doin's
Is the little 'ouses all in 'eaps—the same as might be mine.
An' when the what's-it line is bust an' we go rompin' through it,
An' knock the lid off Potsdam an' the KAYSER off 'is throne,
Why, what'll get our monkey up an' give us 'eart to do it?
Just thinkin' o' them little things as might 'ave been our own
(An' most of all the little kids as might 'ave been our own)!
C.F.S.
GOIN' BACK.
I'm goin' back to Blighty and a free-an' easy life,
But I grant it ain't the Blighty of me pals:
They takes the Tube to Putney, to the kiddies and the wife,
Or takes the air on 'Ampstead with their gals;
My little bit o' Blighty is the 'ighway,
With the sweet gorse smellin' in the sun;
And the 'eather 'ot and dry, where a tired man may lie
When the long day's done.
There's picture-'alls in 'Ammersmith to suit them mates o' mine;
There's beer and 'addock suppers and cigars;
But I guess I'd sooner slog it where there's jest the scent o' pine
And over'ead an 'eap o' little stars;
The lights o' Charin' Cross and Piccadilly,
I'd swop 'em for the silver of the streams,
When the summer moon is lit and the bats begin to flit
And the dark earth dreams.
I'm goin' back to Blighty, to the little lonesome lanes,
The dog-rose and the foxglove and the ferns,
The sleepy country 'orses and the jolty country wains
And the kindly faces every way you turns;
My little bit o' Blighty is the 'ighway,
With the sweet gorse smellin' in the sun;
And the 'eather good and deep where a tired man may sleep
When the long day's done.
LONG LIVE THE HOUSE OF WINDSOR!
ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.
Monday, July 16th.—In the course of a discussion on "rope" in War-bread Mr. THORNE accused the West-End bakeries of mixing white flour with the "G.R." variety, and so supplying their wealthy customers with better bread than is procurable by his own constituents. Although no official confirmation of this charge was forthcoming Mr. THORNE appeared to be convinced of its accuracy. In his opinion the Government, following the historic example of PHARAOH, should give the bread to the people and the rope to the bakers.
THE EMPTY SEAT.
MR. PUNCH DROPS A SILENT TEAR AT THE DEPARTURE OF ONE OF HIS BEST PUPPETS.
It might not be accurate to say that in the matter of beer the Irishman wants but little here below, but he certainly wants that little strong; and being, in spite of a popular impression to the contrary, a seriously-minded person, he resents any reduction of his gravity. Mr. BRIDGEMAN'S gentle reminder that no Irish brewer need avail himself of the new regulations unless he pleases quite failed to satisfy the Nationalists that a new item had not been added to Ireland's catalogue of grievances.
Tuesday, July 17th.—For some weeks Mr. GINNELL has been absent from his place. No one has gone so far as to suggest that the Roll of the House should be called in order to bring back the hon. Member to his Parliamentary duties. But considerable curiosity was aroused by his recent statement that he proposed to make one more appearance at Westminster before retiring permanently to Ireland to watch over the growth of the Sinn Fein Republic. To-day was the day. Question 45, "Mr. Ginnell, to ask the Prime Minister, &c., &c.," was eagerly awaited. There was no saying that the hon. Member, if dissatisfied with the reply, would not hurl the Mace at the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, so as to ensure a properly dramatic exit. At last No. 45 was reached; but Mr. GINNELL was not there to put it. Once more the Saxon intellect had been too slow to keep up with the swift processes of the Celtic cerebellum. Mr. GINNELL has on more than one occasion made what his compatriots call a "holy show" of himself; but he refuses to do this sort of thing to order.
Mr. HOUSTON is still harping upon the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER'S recent confession of his ship-owning gains, and laboured hard this afternoon to convince the Committee that shipowners in general were in no sense profiteers. He failed, however, to avert the wrath of Mr. DENNISS, who declared that if, after what had been revealed, any shipowner was made a peer, he should move to abolish the peerage.
This day the KING in Council decreed that the Royal