Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, July 22, 1914Various
General
Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, July 22, 1914
Various
English wit and humor -- Periodicals
"If you shall ask me, can I act?
I readily retort,
I'm just the Star you want; in fact
The strong and silent sort.
"The sooner you reveal the plot
The sooner I begin.
In me, I beg to state, you've got
The perfect Heroine."
Said they--"De Vere's a villain who
For reasons not disclosed
Desires to make an end of you ..."
("The cad!" she interposed).
"... He ties you to a railway line
That so the Leeds express
May execute his fell design
With speed and thoroughness.
"But Herbert's heroism's such,
He swears this shall not be.
You see, he loves you very much ..."
("I guessed he would," said she).
"... He hires a rapid motor car,
He also buys a map;
He knows how fast expresses are,
And notes the handicap.
"But, as he is a man of parts
And born to play the game,
Without delay the hero starts ..."
We'd better do the same.
They chose a quiet neighbourhood,
A lonely piece of track;
They trusted that the metals would
Not incommode her back.
"This is De Vere," they said, "whose hand
Will tie you firmly down.
Meanwhile your Herb, we understand,
Is on his way from town.
"We do not, though one can't be sure.
Anticipate the worst;
Expresses may be premature;
Still, Herbert _should_ be first.
"Such realism must excite
The audience (and you) ...
If you are ready we are quite;
Your train will soon be due."
* * *
She formed a resolution, viz.,
To put no trust in men,
But hire herself to mistresses,
A whole, if humble, ckgn.
* * * * *
Illustration: AT DURAZZO-SUPER-MARE.
MPRET. "I DON'T FEEL AT ALL COMFORTABLE HERE. ISN'T IT ABOUT TIME YOU
TOOK ME OUT OF THIS?"
EUROPA (_sleepily_). "MPRAPS"
* * * * *
Illustration: "LOOK, ETHEL, LOOK--THERE GOES SIR BEERBOHM ALEXANDER!"
"SO IT IS; BUT HOW UNLIKE!"
* * * * *
ONCE UPON A TIME.
TRANSMIGRATION.
Once upon a time there was an ostrich who, though very ostrichy, was
even more of an egoist. He thought only of himself. That is not a foible
peculiar to ostriches, but this particular fowl--and he was very
particular--was notable for it. "Where do I come in?" was a question
written all over him--from his ridiculous and inadequate head, down his
long neck, on his plump fluffy body, and so to his exceedingly flat and
over-sized feet.
It was in Afric's burning sand--to be precise, at the Cape--that, on the
approach of danger, the ostrich secreted his self-centred head, and here
from time to time his plumes were plucked from him for purposes of
trade.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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