Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV
General
Parodies of the works of English & American authors, vol. IV
Parodies
“And hast thou slain the Waggawock
Come to my arms, my Beamish Boy!
O Coleridge, J.! Hoorah! hooray!”
_Punch_ chortled in his joy.
SHIRLEY BROOKS, 1872.
In _Truth_, October 4, 1883, twenty-one imitations of the
_Jabberwocky_ were printed. They are now rather heavy reading, and
only the two following seem worth reprinting:――
THE CRUISE OF THE “P. C.” BY A. T.[9]
Across the swiffling waves they went,
The gumly bark yoked to and fro;
The jupple crew on pleasure bent,
Galored, “This is a go!”
Beside the poo’s’l stood the Gom,
He chirked and murgled in his glee;
While near him, in a grue jipom,
The Bard was quite at sea.
“Gollop! Golloy! Thou scrumjous Bard!
Take pen (thy stylo) and endite
A pome, my brain needs kurgling hard,
And I will feast to-night.”
That wansome Bard he took his pen,
A flirgly look arnund he guv;
He squoffled once, he squirled, and then
He wrote what’s writ above.
HERMON.
――――
THE BURGLAR.
’Twas grilling hot, the bloky cove
Had burgled through the shop,
When Bobbles caughtled him, and shove
Him into quod flip-flop.
He chore his hair right fistfully,
He rowled his squinty eyne;
He waggled, grovelling fitfully,
His lithy form and lean.
Then Bobbles sweart agin him straight,
So off they chustled him
To horrid Zone for seasons eight,
And chortled at his din.
So all ye pals, come gristle up
Unto my doleful tale:
Ne’er fake away, nor jumble sup,
Though nix my Dolly fail.
ALMA.
――――:o:――――
_Air._――“Will you walk into my parlour.”
“Can you move a little faster?” said a tall man to a stout,
“I’ve an enemy behind me, and I want to keep him out.
See how eagerly the flatterers all throng round the great man;
Now he is looking for their votes, can’t you spoil his little
plan?
Can you, can’t you, can you, can’t you spoil his little plan?
Can you, can’t you, can you spoil his little plan?
“You can really have no notion how delightful it would be,
If you get into the House, you will have many a fee.”
And the stout one said, “No! I’ve worked in vain, I’m beat,
My opponent’s firmly settled, and I cannot take his seat.
Will not, cannot, cannot, will not now take his seat.
Will not, cannot, will not now take his seat.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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