When gaily dances the Easter sun, And shelved is each bothersome Bill, Then work and talk for a time are done, And the lobbies are hushed and still. Lazily, lazily, Drowsily, drowsily, Home goes every one; Lazily, lazily, Drowsily, drowsily, Under the April sun. Old St. Stephen's closes; Parliament reposes, Lazily, lazily, Drowsily, drowsily, Forty winks, or fun! When the sunlight falls on the Heath's green breast, And blue are the skies above, Each seeks the rest that he loves the best, Or the sport he doth chiefly love. Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Donkey riding's fun! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Dawdling under the sun! HARCOURT'S eyelid closes, BALFOUR blandly dozes; Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Under the Easter sun! Joggle and jolt! _These_ mokes won't bolt! Each flops like an empty sack On the broad back, shaggy as Shetland colt. No donkey boy on _their_ track! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Carelessly jogging on! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Under an Easter sun! Lotos-Land discloses No more bland reposes. Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Dawdle they under the sun! "That LABBY was often a bore!" sighs WILL, Groans ARTY, "And so was JOE! To drive _these_ donkeys demands small skill! Would Westminster mokes were so! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily! Riding like this is fun! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily! Bless us! Who _wants_ to run? 'Appy 'Ampstead dozes! Mokes are beds of roses! Lazily, lazily, drowsily, drowsily, Jog we--till holiday's done!" * * * * * "THE OBJECTION TO EUCLID" of which we have heard so much recently is of very ancient standing, and is shared by nearly every schoolboy. * * * * * PARLIAMENTARY PROVERB.--There's many a slip 'twixt the M.P. and the "Whip"! * * * * * [Illustration: AN EASTER 'OLIDAY. _Duet_ ('ARCOURT _and_ HARTHUR _sing while being jolted_). "LA-A-ZI-LY LA-A-ZI-LY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY! DROW-OW-OW-SILY!" &c.] * * * * * MR. PUNCH AT A PICTURE SHOW. (_The Collection of Sir John Tenniel's Drawings at the Fine Art Society's Gallery._) AIR.--"_My Old Friend John._" 'Tis forty years, my dear Sir JOHN, Since you and I first met. Lord, how the fleeting hours have flown! But we foregather yet, I gaze on this brave show with pride-- Fine art, still in full feather! By Jove, it seems but yesterday Since we were "boys" together. Since we were boys, merry, merry boys, At our old Board together!