Old King Coal paid a very high toll, And a very high toll paid he; And it went in the bottle, and it went in the bowl, In green fat, callipash, callipee. What a shame, what a shame, what a shame! said the people, What a wrong that this should be! And there’s none whate’er that can compare To the sons of gluttony. Old King Coal paid a very high toll, And a very high toll paid he: And the City of London eat up the whole, By consent of the Powers that be. This won’t do, this won’t do, this won’t do! says the people; This must not, shall not be; And we now declare we’ll no longer bear Such a monstrous robbery! _Punch._ November 29, 1851. (Notwithstanding Mr. Punch’s virtuous indignation the City of London still levies the obnoxious Coal Tax, and Parliamentary Reports have recently shown in what manner some of the money is expended.) HENRY COLE, C.B.[34] “We write in a state of great depression. Our readers will forgive us if we are not sprightly this week; there is a time for everything, and now with us it is the time for grieving. We have fallen under the displeasure of Mr. HENRY COLE, C.B.!! Gentle Public pity us! Oh! Henry Cole, C.B., deal gently with us. Oh! creator of South Kensington; oh! author of Mumbo Jumbo, don’t be too hard on us. We are sorry, and our heart is heavy within us. Oh! inexhaustible Cole, consume us not in thine ire! What have we done that we should be smitten with thy fury? Did we ever insult thee by coupling thy name with high Art? Did we ever accuse thee of holding the interests of thy country higher than thine own? Listen while we praise thee. Yes, we will now praise the great, the mighty, the gentle Cole. We will show him how deep, how sincere, is our love, our veneration, our worship, of Henry Cole, C.B. Who is the very greatest architect of this age? Henry Cole, C.B. Who is the greatest painter of this age? Henry Cole, C.B. Who is the greatest military hero of this age? Henry Cole, C.B. Who is the greatest author of this age? Henry Cole, C.B. Who is the handsomest man of this age? Henry Cole, C.B. Who is the most immaculate statesman of this age? Henry Cole, C.B. Oh! Henry Cole, C.B., will you forgive us now?” _The Coming “Strife.”_ Old King Cole was a savage old soul, And a savage old soul was he; Captain Coles was his intimate friend, And almost as savage as he. Said Old King Cole, the savage old soul, As savage as ever could be, “My friend you must lend me a turret ship In which I can put to sea?” Says Captain Coles, while his eyeball rolls, As savage as ever you see, “For what do you want a turret ship, And why sail o’er the sea?”