RETRIBUTION.
(Wrought by a cheap Foreign Cigar.)
I'm feeling—great heavens!—all sixes and sevens,
And dizzy, and giddy, and green;
Knocked flat as a pancake, I've got a blank, blank ache
All over—a sight to be seen!
Alas! for the reason 'tis easy to seize on—
The same I'll proceed to relate:—
I've just come from Brussels, whence, after some tussles
With conscience, I rushed to my fate.
For by Calais and Dover I safely brought over
A contraband hatful of weeds;
Ah, why did I struggle to juggle and smuggle,
Thus paying the price for my deeds?
They cost each five farthings, and goodness! they are things
You'd not get your worst foe to smoke,
This "Cabbagio Fino" has giv'n me a beano—
But there! I'm too seedy to joke!
So this crude composition I pen in contrition,
My state of collapse to explain;
I thought to be clever, but never, oh never,
Will make such a bargain again!
Contradiction.—A fortnight ago, in the law reports of the Times, were reported proceedings in bankruptcy "in re Toby." We have been requested to state that this gentleman is not Mr. Punch's "Toby, M.P.," nor is "our Mr. Toby" the gentleman mentioned in the same case as "the bankrupt's brother, M. P. Toby." The coincidence was, naturally, somewhat startling. Our M.P. for Barks will, by now, have appeared in his place at St. Stephen's.
