Young Primrose had a Party,
For Progress it was bound;
But all the progress that it made
Was staggering round and round.
The liveliest shindies in the House,
And mockery out-o'-door,
Was all that Party caused, and so
It dwindled more and more.
Young Primrose had a Party.
I tell you it cost him dear.
The Rads he led "rolled into" him
Because he was a Peer:
They tried to knock Bung's spigot in,
The Caineites raised a cheer.
I think that so fine a Party
Never went bust on beer.
Young Primrose had a Party,
They were all "Souse undt Brouse,"[1]
A more divided company
Ne'er wrangled in the House:
They talked of "filling up the cup,"
Vetoing the Vitler's guilt;
But soon they found the pot was full,
And that the cup was spilt.
Young Primrose had a Party,
Although it was not big,
It tried to break the power of beer,
And check the sway of swig!
But soon they found 'twas all in vain,
The brewer they did "cop";
And the company scattered like fighting crowds
When the constable bids them stop.
Young Primrose had a Party,
Where is that Party now?
Where are the lovely golden dreams
Of the Newcastle pow-wow?
Where are the Democratic plans,
The L. C. C.'s delight?
All floated away on a flood of beer
Away—in the Ewigkeit![2]
East Norfolk Election.—When women are stoned by cowardly ruffians, of any party, or, more probably, of no party, it is not a time for jokes. But Mr. Punch wishes he had been there, with a few of his young men and a few revolvers, and then some persons more deserving to be hit might have been hit, and with something sharper than stones. In East Norfolk, during the excitement of an election, it is evidently almost as necessary to carry firearms for self-defence as in any quite uncivilised and savage country—such as Bulgaria, under the government of the brave Ferdinand.
METEOROLOGICAL MISGIVINGS.
Saturday.—How warm it is! Shall go for my holiday somewhere on the sea. A month's cruise on the coast of Norway, perhaps.