THE MOAN OF THE MAIDEN.
(After Tennyson.)
Golf! Golf! Golf!
By the side of the sounding sea;
And I would that my ears had never
Heard aught of the "links" and the "tee."
Oh, well for the man of my heart,
That he bets on the "holes" and the play
Oh, well for the "caddie" that carries
The "clubs," and earns his pay.
He puts his red coat on,
And he roams on the sandy hill;
But oh for the touch of that golfer's hand,
That the "niblick" wields with a will.
Golf! Golf! Golf!
Where the "bunkers" vex by the sea;
But the days of Tennis and Croquet
Will never come back to me!
OYSTERITIES AT COLCHESTER.—Last Wednesday the Annual Oyster Feast was held at Colchester. Toasts in plenty: music of course. But why was there absent from the harmonious list so appropriate a glee as Sir Henry Bishop's:—
"Uprouse ye then,
My merry merry men,
It is our opening day!"
Why wasn't Deputy-Sheriff BEARD asked? Is he already shelved?