’Tis the Band of the Corporation—­
  And the cornet is fat just here;
    And he’s short, and bull-necked. 
    When you come to reflect
  How he wastes all his wind, ’tis queer
  That the man should be stout just here! 
    But the noise of the throat
    In the solos denote
  That the cornet is fond of beer—­
  It’s been brought up on pots of beer.

  ’Tis the Band of the Corporation—­
  And I know why that Band is queer,
    For I see in the face
    Of the trombone a trace
  Of the blackguard who blows it near
  Me in Town, at most times of year! 
    And I mark, too, the face
    Of that beastly big-bass—­
  (Which has also been reared on beer)—­
    And I know, too, the face
    Of that other disgrace,
  The fat cornet!  They’ve come down here—­
  They’ve been borrowed, and lent new gear!

    But I know them of old,
    And in spite of the gold
  Round the hats, with the peaks just here,
  I can see who they are while near. 
    They wear bowlers in Town,
    And frock-coats which are brown,
  On account of their age—­or beer! 
  For they play to the public for beer;
    For they stand and they blow
    On the kerb in a row,
  And then go to the public for beer! 
  And so this is the Band down here!

* * * * *

“THREE CHOIRS FESTIVAL.”—­Curious coincidence, if true, that when Miss JESSIE KING was charmingly giving the contralto song, “While my Watch I’m Keeping,” a gentleman in the crowded audience suddenly put his hand to his waistcoat-pocket and exclaimed, “Good gracious! it’s gone!” He will never forget the title of that song.  The watch was off its guard.

* * * * *

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