MR. PUNCH WELCOMES THE NEW YEAR.
So, 'Ninety-Five, my boy, you've come at last!
Another year has gone, and I am here
To greet you, as your brothers in the past
Were greeted on their coming, year by year;
For it's always been my practice, Sir—a bit of Punch's lore—
Since the day that I was volumed, until now I'm fifty-four
Aye, fifty-three New Years I've welcomed. This
I pray to Heaven in its arms may bear
A whole New Yearful of a nation's bliss—
A world without a tear, without a care.
'Tis thus that I have prayed, young Sir, full many years before;
But to know how oft I've prayed in vain, would make your young heart sore.
The Year that's dead was better, sure, than some;
But even he brought with him strikes and war,
Whose ghastly horrors smote the soft heart numb
And wrung and chilled it to the very core.
'Twas a villainous attention, this suffering and gore,
That we'd rather have dispensed with, from your brother 'Ninety-Four
But even he, my lad, a jest could work,
And on occasion smile, and nod, and beck;
To England gave—a rising Son of York,
And gave to Ireland—Mr. Gladstone's cheque!
Thus tickling Mr. Bull from smiles and laughter to a roar.
But hearty laughs like these, my friend, were few in 'Ninety-Four.
And you, young shaver, what is it you bring?
Razor and soap, like shavers young and old—
The soap to soothe, razor to cut and sting?—
Will wedding-bell be heard, and death-knell toll'd?
You see, my lad, we're anxious as to what you have in store,
For there's still some things to put to rights bequeathed by Ninety-Four.
In Parliament, no doubt, you'll make your game—
In Camp, and Court, and County Council, too?
Make sport of love—make foul an honoured name—
And all the little fun you're wont to do?
Well—take my tip. Just do your level best, remember! For
The blame, my son, lies at your own, not Mr. Punch's door.
So mind, young Sir, for Mr. Punch's eye
Is cocked upon you through your little life.
Go—rule the world!—and if before you die
You fill the earth with joy instead of strife,
You'll be the first of all your race—for all the smiles they wore—
That gave the country what she asked—from 0 to '94!