_Lond._ It’s gag and shackle that Erin’s needing―― _Bench._ We _can’t_ have the Unionists complaining. _Lond._ Our party’s praises we’d be obtaining. We’ll try a rule Of the Iron School. _Beach._ It won’t be nice, but we’ll stop Campaigning! [_Dance._ Our steps will mend when we’ve had some training. _Funny Folks._ March 5, 1887. ――――:o:―――― GOOD FOR GOSCHEN. (_Owed by a De-lighted Pipe._) Come hither, ye slaves of the weed, And read; All ye of fumiferous breed Take heed; Through minimised taxing, The prices they’re axing For fragrant tobaccos――recede With speed! You say that the Budget’s not strong?―― You’re wrong. You say it contents not the throng?―― Go ’long! Good smokes it arranges, And rings in the changes, And rings out the old with a song―― Ding-dong! What, say you it’s all for a _puff_? That’s rough: _Here_ Goschen deserves no rebuff―― Enough! Indulgers will glory In Whig or in Tory Who’ll give them in ’baccy or snuff Good stuff! High duty on weeds they revoke―― Smart stroke―― It’s certain to finish in smoke (Good joke!) We welcome, in brief, sir, Less liquid, more leaf, sir! When ’baccy in water they soak―― We choke! When Goschen Pride’s high pyramid Bestrid, We openly own that we chid The kid. But he gained by _this_ action The thanks of each faction That loveth the succulent quid―― He did! _Funny Folks._ April 30, 1887. ――――:o:――――