PUNCH’S PÆAN TO THE PRINCELET.
Huzza! we’ve a little prince at last,
A roaring Royal boy;
And all day long the booming bells
Have rung their peals of joy.
And the little park-guns have blazed away,
And made a tremendous noise,
Whilst the air hath been fill’d since eleven o’clock
With the shouts of little boys;
And we have taken our little bell,
And rattled and laugh’d, and sang as well,
Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!
Our little Prince will be daintily swathed,
And laid on a bed of down,
Whilst his cradle will stand ’neath a canopy
That is deck’d with a golden crown.
O, we trust when his Queenly Mother sees
Her Princely boy at rest,
She will think of the helpless pauper babe
That lies at a milkless breast!
And then we will rattle our little bell.
And shout and laugh, and sing as well—
Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!
Our little Prince, we have not a doubt,
Has set up a little cry;
But a dozen sweet voices were there to soothe,
And sing him a lullaby.
We wonder much if a voice so small
Could reach our loved Monarch’s ear;
If so, she said “God bless the poor!
Who cry and have no one near.”
So then we will rattle our little bell,
And shout and laugh, and sing as well—
Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!
Our little Prince (though he heard them not)
Hath been greeted with honied words,
And his cheeks have been fondled to win a smile
By the Privy Council Lords.
Will he trust the “charmer” in after years,
And deem he is more than man?
Or will he feel that he’s but a speck
In creation’s mighty plan?
Let us hope the best, and rattle our bell,
And shout and laugh, and sing as well—
Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!
Our little Prince, when be grows a boy,
Will be taught by men of lore,
From the “dusty tome” of the ancient sage,
As Kings have been taught before.
But will there be one good, true man near,
To tutor the infant heart?
To tell him the world was made for all,
And the poor man claims his part?
We trust there will; so we’ll rattle our bell,
And shout and laugh, and sing as well—
Roo-too-tooit! Shallabella!
Life to the Prince! Fallalderalla!
A CON-CONSTITUTIONAL.
Why is the little Prince of Wales like the 11th Hussars?—Because it is Prince Albert’s own.
HARD TO REMEMBER.
Lord Monteagle, on being shown one of the Exchequer Bills, supposed to have been forged, declared that he did not know if the signature attached to it was his handwriting or not. We do not feel surprised at this—his Lordship has put his hand to so many jobs that it would be impossible he could remember every one of them.