MR. PUNCH'S MANUAL FOR YOUNG RECITERS.
It is a charming characteristic of the Young Amateur Entertainer that—whether he possesses or not the smallest acquaintance with any language beyond his own—he is always prepared to impersonate a foreigner of any given nationality at a moment's notice; and Mr. Punch is confident that the most backward of his Pupils will be perfectly at home (and how his audience will envy him!) with the following Anglo-German recitation, which may be given under the following title:—
Professor Bompp Relates a Little Anecdote.
(To do this effectively, you must assume an air of childlike candour.)
I deach my dong in Engeland for dventy years and more;
And vonce I dvell at Vigmore Shtreet, ubon ze zegond floor—
(Pull yourself up suddenly.)
Bot dat has nodings hier to zay—zo, blease, (professorial air for this) you vill addend!
I gom to dell you gurious dings vat habbened mit a vriend.
He vas a hanzom-headed man, zo like me as a pea,
And eferyveres I valk about he gom along mit me;
Bot all ze efenings, beaceful-quiet, he shtay in-doors and shmoke.
And choggle at himzelf at dimes in hatching out a yoke;
Ontill von day his choggling stobbed—he'd tombled deep in lôf,
And he bassed ze dime vith gissing at a leedle vemale glôf!
Ubon two shpargling eyes he dink, von deligate cock-nose—
Dill zoon his dinkings vork him op mit gourage to bropose.
Zen, ach! zat nose vas dilted more, and gruel vorts she shpoke:
"I vill not dwine aroundt no heart vat shmells zo shtrong mit shmoke!
Vor you yourzelf I might, vith dime, bersuade myzelf to gare—
Bot nevare mit no ogly bipes vill I avection share!"
(Pause, and glance round your audience with a slightly pained air.)
I dink I hear zom laty make a symbathetic shniff—
You Englisch shendlevomens dreats a shmoker var too shtiff!
For look—meinzelf I shmoke a bipe, mit baintings on ze bowl,
I shtoffs him vith dat sheepstabak vat's dwisted in a roll,
I gif my vort it ton't daste pad—zough yust a leedle veak—
Shtill, ven I schmokes inzide a drain,—I vinds zom laties seeck!
(Amiable surprise, as you mention this instance of insular intolerance.)
Bot, zere, you makes me chadderbox, and dakes op all my dime!
I vant to dell you how mein vriend behafed himself sooblime:
"If you vill pe mein Braut," he zaid, "tobaggo I'll renounce,
And shvear to nefer puy no more von solidary ounce!"
Zo she gif him out her lily hand, and shmile on him zo shveet:
"Vith sodge a sagrifice," she zaid, "you brove your lôf indeet!
And I dakes you—on your zolem vort mit shmoking to ged rid,
Pe off and purn your bipes and dings!" vich—boor yong man, he—did!
Dree sblendid bipes he sacrificed, in china, glay, and vood,
He vatched zem craggle in ze vlames—I vonder how he could!
And mit zem vent his brime zigars of pest Havana prandt,
Imborted hier vrom Hampurg, in his own dear Vaderlandt!
[With sentiment.
Henzefort he lif a shmokeless life, vor vear to lose his bride,
And nefer vonce gomblained to her of soferings inzide!
Bot—zough she gif him zentiment and rabdures ven zey met—
Zomdimes he vish she vouldn't mind von leedle zigarette! [Pause.
Now game along ze night pefore his veddings was to pe—
And he dried to galm his jomping soul mit bonderings and tea—
Ven, zoddenly—he hear a zound, as eef zom barty knock,
And it gom vrom his tobaggo-jar, long embdy of its shtock!
"Gom in! I mean—gom out!" he cried (he was a viddy chap!)
[Here you should be convulsed with inward laughter.
"For nonn of your nockdurnal knocks I do not gare von rap!"
Bot—vile he yoked—ze lid fly off, and sblash into his cop,
[Business here.
And a kind of leedle voman's form inzide the jar sbring op!
Her face vas yust the golour of a meerschaum nod quide new,
And her hair vas all in ribbling vaves—like long-cut honnydew!
In golden silber she vas roped, all shpangled o'er mit shtars,
For it zeemed as eef she dress herzelf mit baper round zigars,
And like an eel his bagbone squirmed, his hair god up erect,
For beoples in tobaggo-jars is tings you ton't exbect!
"Bervidious von!" she shpeak at him, zo broud as any queen,
"Pehold your homage-objects vonce—ze goddess Nigodeen!
I galls to know ze reason vy you leafs my aldars cold,
And nefer purns me incense like your bractice vas of old?"
"To bay you more resbects, I must," he plurted out, "degline,
For I'm vorshibing at bresent mit an obbosition shrine."
"And zo you makes yourzelf," she gries, "a dankless renegade
To von who, oftendimes invoked, yet nefer vailed her aid
To charm avay your lonely dimes, and soffogate your care!
If dat's your leedle games, mein vriend, dake my advice—bevare!"
"I'd gladly zend mein zoul inzide a himmeldinted gloud,
Bot as a Penedick," he zaid, "I vill not pe allowed!
I dells you vrank"—(I haf exblained he vas a vonny vellow!)—
"Mitout mein bipe, ze honnymoon shall nod daste quide so mellow!"
"Enoff!" she said, "you vatch your eye, and zee vat vill bekom!"
She bopped inzide ... he search ze jar—'twas embdy as a drom!
And zen he vipe his sbecdagles, and shtare, and rob his head,
(Business.) And dink he'd grown too vanziful, and pedder go to bed.
[Impressive pause, and continue in lowered voice.
Vell, next day, on ze afdernoon, his honnymoon pegan——
And Dandalus vas nodings to zat boor dormented man!
For ven he dry to giss his vife ubon her lips zo ripe—
Petween his own brojected fort a pig soobyectif bipe!
And efer more, in sbite of all ze dender vorts he zay,
Ze sbegtral image of a bipe kept gedding in his vay!
Ondill ubon ze burple sky shone out ze efening shtar—
And zen ze bipe dransform himzelf, and change to a zigar!
Bot, vorst of all, his vife vould veel no bity for his fate!
She dink it all a hombogsdrick—and zoon zey sebarate;
And benidently he redurned, and zaid to Nigodeen:
"Forgif, and nefer more I'll pe ze vool I vonce haf peen!
I lôfed my vife—but now I vind I gares for you ze most—
And I'm dired of shmoking dings vat is no pedder as a ghost!"
Zo Nigodeen she dakes him back, begause his vife vas gone,
And now ze bipe he shmokes is nod an immaderial von!
You vonder how I goms to know?—Brebare yourzelves to jomp!—
(Sensationally.) I vas zat yong boor man meinzelf—der Herr Brofessor Bompp!