Three wives sat wearily “watching for pa,” Till the sweet chimes jingled the midnight hour, And they waited and watched with the doors ajar, Oh, where were the joints, the spuds, and the flour! For women can’t cook if the cupboard is bare, And a dinnerless Sunday will make a saint swear, With the poor little children moaning. Three potters came home all dressed in their best, All dressed in their best, but draggled and torn, Nothing they brought――you may guess the rest, And the wigging they got from their wives forlorn, For men should be sober at each week end, And give their wives their wages to spend, Then there’d be no headaches and groaning. (Stoke-upon-Trent, 1884) ―――― THE THREE CHAMPIONS. Three Champions went stumping up into the North, Up into the North with identical creeds; Lord S. took the Clyde, and Sir STAFFORD the Forth, While Lord RANDOLPH he posed as a Leader at Leeds, For if Radicals rant, then Tories _will_ fret, And there’s little to learn, and much to forget, When our rival Chiefs are spouting. Three Editors sat in their newspaper towers, While the “flimsies” came pouring in fast as could be; And they kindly cut short the rhetorical flowers, And sighed when the language was “painful and free;” For if Rads _will_ threaten, then Tories must scold, Though Europe be angry and ironclads old, And patriots hate this spouting. Three crowds of admirers they chortled and cheered, For the Leaders went up, and their speeches “went down;” And the Editors swear by Lord BEACONSFIELD’S beard That the country is with them as well as the Town. But though Tories and Radicals scream themselves red, The sooner it’s over, the sooner to bed, And good-bye to this pestilent spouting! _Punch_, October 11, 1884. ―――― THREE FOSSILS. Three Fossils sat perched in the Whitehall Zoo, Out far in the West where the sun goes down; Each thought of his crotchet――the last one he knew; And their fads and their whims were the talk of the town. For men must work and women must weep, Or there’ll be no money the Fossils to keep; And the shipowning folks are groaning. Three shipowners sat in their wild despair, By East or by West they were all done brown! For the Fossils had ruined the trade once so fair; And the foreigners cut in to put the freights down. But men must work and women must weep; ’Tis hard to do else when there’s nothing to eat, While the Fossils go on droning.