Mr. Punch on the Warpath Part 15

_Loung._ Yes, but it stands to reason that it _can't_ be as popular as Wimbledon.

_Marks._ My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the history of the a.s.sociation we never had more entries than this year.

_Loung._ That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer town.

_Marks. (laughing)._ Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not pleasure! And now, old man, I really _must_ be off. Ta! ta! See you later.

[_Exit._

Loung. Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon. And as there doesn't seem much for _me_ to do down here, I shall return to town.

[_Does so. Curtain._

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Irascible Lieutenant (down engine-room tube)._ "Is there a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?"

_Voice from Engine-room._ "Not at this end, sir!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: VOLO EPISCOPARI.

_Festive Middy._ "I say, guv'nor! I think you must rather like being Bishop here!"

_His Lords.h.i.+p._ "Well, my boy, I hope I do! But why do you ask?"

_Festive Middy._ "Oh, I've just been taking a walk through the city,--and I _say_!--there _is_ an uncommonly good-looking lot o' girls about, and _no_ mistake!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A NASTY ONE.

_Colonel Smithson (of the Poonah Marines)._ "By the way, my boy at Sandhurst hopes to get into your regiment some day."

_Little Simpson (of the Royal Hussars Green)._ "Aw--I--aw hope your son is up to _our form!_"

_Colonel Smithson._ "_Your form!_ Dash it, he's over four feet high, anyhow!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CAUTION.

_Old Gent (with difficulty)._ "Now really--Oh! this dis--graceful crowding--I'm--I'm positive my gun will go off!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHEEK.

_(The regiment is about to "march out" with twenty rounds of "blank cartridge.")_

_Sub-Lieutenant (of twenty-four hours' service)._ "Whereabouts is this pyrotechnic display of yours coming off, Colonel!!?"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: OVERHEARD AT PORTSMOUTH.

_Jack._ "Well, Polly la.s.s, if it's true as 'ow you're going to get spliced to Bill, all I 'opes is that he'll stick to you through thick and thin!"

_Polly._ "Well, 'e _ought_ to, Jack. 'E works in a glue factory."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Awful bore, dear old chap. War offith won't have me, thimply becauth my eyethight ith tho doothed bad!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: ARMS OF PRECISION

_Volunteer Subaltern (as the enemy's scout continues to advance in spite of expenditure of much "blank" ammunition)._ "If that infernal yeoman comes any nearer, shy stones at him, some of you!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: A FORLORN HOPE

_Captain O'Dowd (of the firm of O'Dowd and Jones, stock-jobbers)._ "What'll I do now? It's beyond me jumpin' powers, an' if I wade I'll be wet to the waist." _(To Private Halloran, who in civil life is a stockbroker's clerk)._ "Here, Halloran, I want a carry over. You do it for me, an' I'll not forget it to you, me lad."

_Private Halloran._ "Sorry I can't, Captain. You know carryin'-over day is not till the sixteenth, an' this is only the seventh!"]

A LAY OF THE UNION JACK

(_By a patriotic c.o.c.kney_)

Though I feel less at home on the bounding wave Than I do on the firm dry land, I can spin you a yarn of a right good craft That is true-British owned and manned.

The winds may blow, and the storms may beat, And the hurricanes rage and roar, But "the s.h.i.+p I love" on her course will hold With the Union Jack at the fore.

Fair weather or foul, she ploughs along, Leaving far astern the strand, And many a towering sister bark We pa.s.s on the starboard hand, And, Westward ho! as we bear away!

I can count stout s.h.i.+ps galore, Abeam, in our wake, and ahead, that fly The Union Jack at the fore.

And the sight of the flag that has swept the seas, Nor ever has known disgrace, Makes even a landlubber's bosom swell With the pride of his English race.

At that gallant sight in my landsman's heart I rejoice--and rejoice still more That I'm only aboard of a road-car 'bus, With the Union Jack at the fore!

[Ill.u.s.tration: "USED TO IT!"--_Officer at firing-point (who thinks that it's raining)._ "Sergeant Mauchline, hadn't you better wear your greatcoat till it's your turn to fire?" _Sergeant Mauchline (frae the "Land of Lorne")._ "Hoo! Nothe noo! I'll pit it on when it comes wat!"]