Who swaggered down from West End Club, As fierce as any half-pay “Sub,” Prepared all City Men to snub? My Client! Who, when I gave him sound advice, And landed him on “something nice,” Declared I’d robbed him in the price? My Client! Who (though when things were going well, He took his profits like a Swell) Firmly, for loss, declined to “shell?” My Client! Who, on that panic settling-day, Just calmly kept himself away, And left _me_ all his debts to pay? My Client! Whom did I find “Gone out of Town,” Whose assets not worth half-a-crown, And who’d done twenty Brokers “brown?” My Client! _Punch_, November 6, 1875. ――――:o:―――― MY BISMARCK! Who, safe immured as in an ark, Keeps all his counsels close and dark, And acts the part of Nick’s chief clerk? My Bismarck! Who to poor Johnny wouldn’t hark, But seized and ransack’d poor Denmark, Like, what he is, a greedy shark? My Bismarck! Who looks on Europe as a park, Where men, like dogs, may bite and bark, While he looks on all grim and stark? My Bismarck! Who yet will overshoot the mark, And wreck proud Prussia’s lofty barque, And get his hide tann’d? What a lark! Why Bismarck! _Judy_,[22] May 15, 1867. ――――:o:―――― WHO’S WHO IN 1851. Who, when I feel a little ill, Sends me a daily draft and pill, Followed by a tremendous bill? My Doctor! Who preaches self-denying views, Charges a heavy rent for pews, And calls on me for Easter dues? My Parson! Who, when a law-suit I have won, For a large sum begins to dun, To which the extra costs have run? My Lawyer! Who, for my trousers, which, with straps, Have cost him half-a-sovereign, p’raps, Down in the bill two guineas claps? My Tailor! Who, when I wish of beef a stone, Composed of wholesome meat alone, Sends me at least three pounds of bone? My Butcher! Who, when I send a joint to bake, Away from it contrives to take Enough a hearty meal to make? My Baker! Who lends my _Times_ to read in town, And when I at the lateness frown, Tells me the engine’s broken down? My Newsman! Who coolly pawns my “other” shirt, And tells me, with assurance pert, She’s only dropped it in the dirt? My Laundress! Who peeps in every private note, Wears my best neckcloth round his throat, And at the “Swarry” sports my coat? My Footman!