Precept and law they broke, Curate and rector spoke, Dealing the Church a stroke Shaken and sundered- Then they divided, and Lost the six hundred ! Clergy to right of chair, Shouted and thundered! Went blessed, and out of breath, Back to their flocks to tell All that was done by them- When will the scandal fade Why such a noise was made All by the Church BrigadeBlind fourteen hundred! IV.. Balls to the right of me! Bounded and thundered! From Lays of Modern Oxford, 1874. Thirsty, with elbows bare, Why no one's head was broke, Fast the balls thundered; Which, had they hit him, would The following is a fair specimen of the Puff Poetical, taken from the Daily News of January, 1878: CHARGE OF THE FAIR BRIGADE. With the Junior Partner's Apologies to Mr. Tennyson. Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All on the underground line Rode the six hundred. Right cried the guard of the train; Glide the six hundred. Came the six hundred. Counters to right of them, Counters to left of them, Counters in front of them, Dighted and lumbered; Greeted with chair and grace On the occasion of the Six Hundredth performance of this most successful comedy at the Vaudeville Theatre, the following verses were composed : Keep the league! keep the league, Keep our league onward! We twain have run" a piece Though but a light brigade, Nights full Six Hundred ! "Here's your piece," Byron said, "Take it friends, undismayed," So we did, for we knew Seldom he's blundered! Prophets to right of us, Volleyed and thundered! “Flashy! a thing of air ! Dresses wore spite of us, After Six Hundred ! When shall this fortune fade? Thanks to the Public, we'll These stanzas, which bore the signature of Mr. Robert Reece, were circulated among the audience, but were not spoken from the stage. The extraordinary run of Our Boys, which closed in April, 1879, will long excite the curiosity and wonder of the theatrical world. Mr. Byron's comedy was produced January 16, 1875, and was played continuously for four years three months and three days. This would allow about 1,321 nights, but extra day representations have raised the total number of performances to Into the Commons' House went the three hundred. Forward the "Rad." Brigade! Who is a whit afraid? Into the Commons' House went the three hundred. Leaguers to right of them, Whiggites to left of them, Into the lobby drear, into the House pell-mell, rushed the three hundred ; Flashed all their tongues quite bare, each one his speech to air, Crushing the Leaguers there, dishing the Tories while Salisbury wondered. Plunged in the hot debate, those who the rules had brokeParnell and Dillon-reeled from brave Gladstone's stroke shattered and sundered; Then they went out, but not-not the three hundred. Leaguers to right of them, Whigs on the left of them, Tories behind them, stamped, roared, and thundered, Stormed at with hoot and yell, while many a weak one fell, They that had voted well came from the lobby back, baek to the House pell-mell All that was left of the happy three hundred. When will they e'er be paid? Oh, the grand vote they gave ! Salisbury wondered! Honour the vote they gave! Long live the "Rad." Brigade! Gladstone's three hundred. Up the stairs, down the stairs, Barriers in front of us! Bad words we thundered. Most doors are barred and locked, All sense of safety shocked; By those who blundered? Who could have wondered? If one, there's five hundred. Still we may raise the cry, Funny Folks, 1883. THE LATEST CHARGE. [At a meeting in Ireland recently, when Mr. Biggar got up to speak, six hundred ladies rose and quitted the room.] On their legs, on their legs, On their legs onward, All with face pale as death Rose the Six hundred. How dare he show his head? Strode the Six Hundred. Volleyed and thundered. Noble Six Hundred ! The Nineteenth Century, March 1878, contained a poem entitled THE REVENGE. A Ballad of the Fleet. I. At FLORES, in the Azores, Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a flutter'd bird, came flying from far away: "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard; "Fore God I am no coward; But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?' The rugged metre, and the exaggerated national sentiment of this ballad were thus amusingly parodied : RETRIBUTION-A XIXTH CENTURY BALLAD OF THE SLOE. By the Author of " Vengeance, a Ballad of the Fleet." AT his chambers in the Albany Sir Richard Tankard lay, And a missive, like brown buttered toast, was brought him on a tray; "Come, drink my Spanish wine-fifty dozen, all is thine, And bring your friends with you, we'll drink till all is blue." Then sware Lord Thomas Drunker: "By jingo, I'm no funker ; But I cannot go, I fear, for my liver's out of gear, And my head feels like to burst, and I only slake my thirst With Apollinaris water, for I dare not touch port wine." Then spake Sir Richard Tankard, "I know you are no funker, And fly wine for a moment to return to it again, But my liver and my brain are free from ache and pain. Unsatisfied, and craving for the purple wine of Spain." "We will go for we are dry; If good there will be little left ere morrow's sun be set! Sir Richard spoke and he laugh'd, and we roared a hurrah, and so, Like true-born sturdy Englishmen, we all of us would go. And found the wine all laid along the floor in many a row, And half was laid on the right-hand side, and half on the left was seen, And the table, like the white sea foam, ran down the room between. The dim eyes of the waiters winked with an inward laugh; They seemed to mock the notion that we the wine would But as the night was waning they watched the rows grow small, And whispered to each other, "I bet they'll drink it all!" For the wine was flowing swiftly down, as a cataract might be When it leaps from a mountain to the sea! And the moon went down and the stars came out o'er the smoky London town; And never a moment ceased the flow of the purple liquor down! Glass after glass, the whole night long, the mighty magnums went, And bottle after bottle was away from the table sent. "Dead men," as in a battle field, lay strewn upon the floor, But still there was no cry of "Hold !" but constant shouts for "more!" For he said, "Drink on, drink on!" And it chanced when more than half of the summer night was gone That he rose up on his feet and tried to stand, So pass'd we all, and when we woke each knew of a heavy head, For not a soul of all of us had found the way to bed! "It never was PORT"! we cried, and so we tasted it once again-'twas SLOE! Vile SLOE, with all our might, we had drunk for half the night! And brave Sir Richard Tankard said, "Boys, although we drank hard, 'TIS SLOE-JUICE, and not Spanish wine, is giving us such pains!" Then in a sink, that day, we poured the rest away, To be lost evermore in the drains. On the 15th March, 1882, at one of the London Ballad Concerts, Mr. Santley sang, for the first time, a patriotic song, written by Alfred Tennyson, the music composed by Mr. C. V. Stanford. This song was announced with much ceremony as a new work, whereas it was simply an abbreviated, and somewhat modified, arrangement of a poem in five verses, entitled Hands all Round, which had appeared in the Examiner in 1852, over the signature Merlin. The song did not arouse any enthusiasm, and is now only memorable for the offence its chorus gave to the temperance party. The first verse is quoted to illustrate the parodies: "First pledge our Queen, my friends, and then Who loves his native country best ! Hands all round! God the traitor's hope confound! To the great cause of Freedom, drink my friends, And the great name of England round and round. On this poem getting into the papers, the Good Templars attached far too much importance to it, and wrote to remonstrate with the Poet Laureate. The following reply was sent to Mr. Malins, the Chief Templar: "86, Eaton-square, London,-Sir,-My father begs to thank the Committee of the Executive of the Grand Lodge of England Good Templars for their resolution. No one honours more highly the good work done by them than my father. I must, however, ask you to remember that the common cup has in all ages been employed as a sacred symbol of unity, and that my father has only used the word drink'in reference to this symbol. I much regret that it should have been otherwise understood.-Faithfully yours, HALLAM TENNYSON." To all our Statesmen, so they be To both our Houses, if with glee They'll quench, in water, Freedom's fire, What odds though Freedom's flag should sink, Shall Britons bondsmen be to Drink Through fear of being Slopdom's slaves? Heaven the Wittlers' hopes confound! To the great cause Teetotal swig, my friends, And the great name of LAWSON round and round! DRINKS ALL ROUND. (Being an attempt to arrange Mr. Tennyson's noble words for truly Patriotic, Protectionist, and Anti-Aboriginal Circles) : A health to Jingo first, and then A health to shell, a health to shot! We drink; to all who'd tax her food! We drink to Bartle Frere and Froude ! To all the Companies that long To rob as folk robbed years ago; Call Aryan man “a blasted nigger;" To rigour everywhere, and vigour !- To all our statesmen, while they see We've scooped the artless nigger in ; We give them measles, tracts, and gin! From The Daily News, March 17, 1882. THE LAUREATE'S LAST LYRIC; OR, NORTHAMPTON' Come! pledge Northampton, friends, and then He best will serve the race of men Who breaks the tyrant's chain away! CHORUS-Hands all round! All despotic laws confound! Northampton's Freemen, cheer, my friends, |