Troubles in Madagascar.—Not by any means at an end. Most probably all "Hova" again.
HANWELLIA'S ANSWER.
(See "Punch," September 22.)
So, my friend, you ask me questions; well, I'll give you tit for tat: I'm a matrimonial cormorant connected with a bat. But I stirred my stumps and wandered through the wicket of the jail, While the umpire leg-befored me as a prisoner on bail.
What a sight for sunny snowballs! ah, my heart beat fast and loud When once more I mingled freely with the logarithmic crowd: And on either side the cube-roots cast the falsehood in the teeth Of the oyster I had bearded on his own, his native, heath.
It was splendid, but I fancy that they came it rather strong When a saucy capercailzie played sonatas on a gong. If his music was so naughty, his behaviour was so nice, That I laughed to see him gaily cutting capers on the ice.
Then the band struck up in earnest, though their leader murmured "play"; And at first they played ta-ra-ra, but without the boom-de-ay. Then they captured a canal-boat, and with half-a-dozen bars Beating time they smashed the record from Mashonaland to Mars.
Fifty tunes they played serenely, but I didn't seem to care, For my Aunt had said "Eliza, when the band plays I'll be there; I'll be there with Uncle Rufus who has got to go because—— Well the reason doesn't matter, he'll be there," and there he was.
If the stars drink champagne-cider out of tankards to the dregs, All the stars and little starlings with the garters on their legs, Shall an undiscovered cornet with a mile or two of tail Be put off with half a gallon of our humble home-brewed ale?