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Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 147, August 5th, 1914

Volume 147 — THE PASSING OF THE COW.

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[The Soya bean, grown in Japan, Korea and Manchuria, is said to provide a perfect substitute for milk.]

Tout lasse, tout casse, tout passe: All mortal flesh is grass, Mown down by Time at the appointed hour; And in the world of speed The noblest Arab steed Yields, O Combustion, to thy pent-up power. On Youth of ardent aim No more Mazeppa's fame Or Turpin's feats exert their ancient spell; Napier and Wolseley stand No more for war's command, But only steel and rubber, oil and smell. Where once men safely strode Along the open road, A sinister and stertorous machine Exhales its acrid breath And deals impartial death To all the dwellers on the village green. And now, O gentle cow, Man's foster-mother, thou, Must tread the fatal path the horse hath trod, Since scientists have found That milk and cream abound Within the compass of an Eastern pod. No more shall we behold, As in the days of old, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea; Or Mary, mid the foam, Calling her cattle home, Across the sands, the perilous sands o' Dee. Mourn, Alderney, and mourn, O maiden all forlorn, The cow with crumpled horn that filled thy pail; Mourn, damsels, mourn and sigh Who can no more reply, "I'm going a milking" to the curious male. Mourn too, for ye shall feel The change at every meal, Ye minions of the hearthrug; be not mute, Ye Persians, topaz-eyed, When mistresses provide This miserable Soya substitute. In legendary lore The cow was wont to soar With Dædalean art above the moon; But ah! the cardboard cows That by the railroad browse To no elopement prompt the modern spoon. On earth men owned thy sway From Lapland to Cathay; In heaven the Milky Way thy might confessed: Weaklings we saw become Strong, thanks to thee and rum, And Punch of all ingredients found milk best. But, heedless of a debt He never should forget, Ungrateful man is planning to replace By vegetable aid The kindly service paid By your mild-natured and sweet-breathing race. Yet, ere the Soya boom Achieves the dairy's doom, And rude bean-crushers oust the homely churn, Let one unworthy scribe Salute the vaccine tribe And lay his wreath upon their funeral urn.

The Trippers.

"The native inhabitants produce all manner of curios, the great majority of which appear to command a ready sale among the visitors, crude and commonplace as these frequently are."—Bulawayo Chronicle.

They are; but, bless their hearts, they seem to enjoy themselves.

"Exeter.—Young Cook-General, willing to learn; small family, no children; no basement. No religion preferred."

Western Morning News.

She forgot to add "No meals to serve."

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