Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 100, March 28, 1891

It was a gallant Postmaster that armed him for the fray,
And, oh, his eyes were gleaming as he summoned his array;
To North and South the message went, to W. and E.,
And where, 'mid piles of ledgers, men make money in E.C.;
From Highgate Hill to Putney one cry the echoes wakes.
As the Postmen don their uniforms and shout aloud for RAIKES.
Brave Postmen, spake an officer, who gazed upon the throng,
Ye tramp the streets by day and night, your hours are very long;
Yet since you love the G.P.O. that thus your feet employs,
We must not see you flouted by a perky pack of hoys.
Swift rally round the Master who quavers not nor quakes,