THE VESTRYMAN.
Reading edition
A Comic Song for Serious Consideration.
(By an Elderly Victim of Bumbledom.)
["The London Vestries and Boards of Works have not exactly covered themselves with glory in their dealings with the recent snowfall. In very few neighbourhoods was any attempt made on Wednesday to remove the slush, and Nature having taking her course during the night, in the direction of a frost early yesterday morning, the streets in many places were absolutely impassable for wheeled traffic until a liberal layer of sand and gravel had been spread."—Daily Chronicle, January 4.]
Air—"The Bogie Man."
Come, gather round me, ratepayers, So full of fun and glee; New Bumble's going to play the fool To please the L. C. C. They swear that he is able Improvements for to plan; I love to hear Progressives say, "Hush! The New Vestryman!"
Chorus.
Slush! Slush!! Slush!!! Where is the Vestryman? Are broom and shovel ready? What is his brand new plan? Oh, Slush! Slush! Slush!— The footways never ran With a worse slithery slippery slop, 'Neath the Old Vestryman. When I sit down, impromptu, All in a soft snow-pie; Or slide a yard, then come down hard, I groan, and wonder why. I blow my blue numb fingers, I watch a fast-stuck van; Reform, I cry, seems all my eye. Where is that Vestryman?
Chorus.
Slush! Slush!! Slush!!! Why is this, Vestryman? Is this the outcome shady Of the Progressive plan? Oh, Slush! Slush! Slush! No gravel, sand, or tan! All slip and slop. I'd like to whop That blessed Vestryman!!!
GRADATION.
Clerk (to Curate). "I'm terrible sorry, Zur, that you be agwaïne to lave us. We've changed ever zo many times since Passen Green died, and always for the wuss!"
TRAVELS IN TAFFY-LAND; OR, WALES BLOWING.
[The Flint Town Council has censured the L. & N. W. Railway for dismissing some of its servants for ignorance of the English language.]
Would you tell me, Porter, if the next train is the one for Aberystwyth?
I am really very much obliged for your reply, but as I have not a Cymric dictionary at hand, I am totally unable even to guess at your meaning.
As the man points to the train which is now at the platform, and nods vigorously, I suppose he means me to get in. Still, the fact that it has "Llanrhychwyn" on it makes me a little doubtful whether I shall ever reach Aberystwyth if I enter it.
I am grateful for your attention, Guard, but it was a foot-warmer that I asked for, not the newspaper-boy.
As I have just been hurled down an embankment and find myself sitting much bruised in a shallow pond in a field close to the line, I really fancy that the Welsh-speaking signalman at the adjoining cabin has failed to understand the message wired to him in English from our last stopping station.
I should be glad, Stationmaster, if you would kindly have a telegram sent to my friends saying that I have only four ribs broken.
As you do not appear to understand what I say, and as I suppose there is nobody who knows English in this desolate Welsh valley where the sufferers from the accident are lying, perhaps you will kindly have us all sent back to Shrewsbury as soon as possible.
The man lying next to me, whose arm is hurt, says that the train was not going to Aberystwyth at all. So perhaps it is as well that circumstances have prevented my proceeding further in it.
We should undoubtedly have been much better off if this accident had happened to us in France or Germany, because then we should have been able to secure the services of the railway interpreter.
Thank Heaven! I am back at Chester, where the hotel people do talk English; and in future I shall vote steadily at elections against any party that does not make the total suppression of all so-called "national tongues" within the British Isles a part of its recognised programme.