Title:  Punch, or The London Charivari, Volume 101, October 31, 1891

Author:  Various

Editor:  Francis Burnand

Release Date:  March 23, 2005 [EBook #15442]

Language:  English

Character set encoding:  ASCII

*** Start of this project gutenberg EBOOK Punch ***

Produced by Malcolm Farmer, William Flis, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.

PUNCH,

Or the London charivari.

Vol. 101.

October 31, 1891.

YOUNG GRANDOLPH’S BARTY.

(Afrikander Version of the great Breitmann Ballad, penned, “more in sorrow than in anger,” by a “Deutscher” resident in the distant regions where the Correspondent of the “Daily Graphic” is, like der Herr Breitmann himself, “drafellin’ apout like eferydings.”)

[Illustration:  (Y)]

  Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—­
    Vhere is dat Barty now? 
  He fell’d in luf mit der African goldt;
    Mit Solly he’d hat a row;
  He dinks dat his secession
    Would make der resht look plue,
  But, before he drafel vast and var,
    His Barty sphlit in two.

  Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—­
    Dere vash B-LF-R, W-LFF, and G-RST,
  Dey haf vorgot deir “Leater,”
    Und dat ish not deir vorst. 
  B-LF-R vill “boss” der Commons,
    Vhile GRANDOLPH—­sore disgraced—­
  Ish “oop a tree,” like der Bumble Bee,
    Und W-LFF and G-RST are “placed.”

  Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—­
    Vhen he dat Barty led,
  B-LF-R vash but a “Bummer,”
    A loafing lollop-head. 
  Young Tories schvore by GRANDOLPH,
    (Dey schvear at GRANDOLPH now,)
  Now at de feet of der “lank aesthete”
    Der Times itshelf doth bow!

  Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty,
    Dere all vash “Souse und Brouse."[1]
  Now he hets not dat prave gompany
    All in der Commons House,
  To see him skywgle GL-DST-NE,
    Und schlog him on der kop. 
  Young Tory bloods no longer shout
    Till der SCHPEAKER bids dem shtop.

  Und, like dat Rhine Mermaiden
    “Vot hadn’t got nodings on,”
  Dey “don’t dink mooch of beoplesh
    Vat goes mit demselfs alone!”

  Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty—­
    Where ish dat Barty now? 
  Where ish dat oder ARTHUR’s song
    Vot darkened der Champerlain’s prow? 
  Where ish de himmelstrahlende stern,
    De shtar of der Tory fight? 
  All gon’d afay, as on Woodcock’s wing,
    Afay in de ewigkeit!

  Young GRANDOLPH hat a Barty;
    He hunt der lions now,
  All in der lone Mashonaland,
    But he does not “score”—­somehow. 
  One Grand Old Lion he dared to peard,
    Und he “potted” Earls and Dukes,
  But eight or nine real lions at once,
    He thinks are “trop de luxe”