THE YELLOW RIDING-HABIT.
Chang, he had a yellow jacket
Fitting rather nice and slick;
When the garment got the sack, it
Made him simply deathly sick;
And he swore, with objurgations,
It was due—or he'd be hung—
To the fiendish machinations
Of a man who rhymed with Bung.
But his lord in mild, celestial,
Manner moralised and said—
"There are other really bestial
Things I might have done instead;
Might, in point of fact, have tied you
To a poplar with a splice,
And explicitly denied you
Every claim to Paradise.
Nay, I even wondered whether
I should play another card,
And reduce your dorsal tether
By a matter of a yard;
Or curtail your nether raiment,
(This I waived as rather coarse,)
Or appropriate your payment
As a marshal of the force.
But I gave you just a gentle,
If humiliating, shock,
Much as any Occidental
Castigates the erring jock,
Who in place of freely plugging
At a reasonable rate,
By irregularly lugging
Lets a rival take the plate.
Thus I delicately hinted
It was time to jog your gee;
And the proper view is printed,
In the pagan P. M. G.,
Namely, that you might be chary
Of a deal of sultry dirt,
And do better in an airy
Waistcoat with a cotton shirt.
Doubtless habits have a lot to
Do with character as such,
Yet the prophet warns us not to
Trust in colour very much;
And indeed your yellow custard
Came to smack of rotten cheese,
Since they took to making mustard
Books and Asters over-seas."
PEARLS BEFORE SWINE.
The Vicar. "What do you think of that Burgundy? It's the last Bottle of some the dear Bishop gave me. It cost him Eighteen Shillings a Bottle!"
The Major. "Very nice! But I should just like you to try some I gave Twelve Shillings a Dozen for!"