Volume 158 — THE MADNESS OF THE MACNAMARA.
Reading edition
(From the Gaelic—with apologies to Bon Gaultier.)
Weefrees swore a feud Against the clan McGeorgy; Marched to Leamington To hold a pious orgy; For they did resolve To extirpate the vipers With thirty stout M.P.s And all the Northsquith “pipers.” “Lads,” said Hogge and Benn To their faithful scholars, “We shall need to fight To retain the dollars; Here’s Mhic-mac-Namara Coming with his henchmen, Hewart, Kellaway And several Front-Bench men.” “Coot-tay to you, Sirs,” Said Mhic-mac-Namara In a voice that reached From Leamington to Tara; “So you’d drum us out To enjoy your plunder, Adding to a crime Suicidal blunder.” But the brave Weefrees, Heedless of his bawling, Drowned him with the storm Of their caterwauling; So Mhic-mac-Namara And the valiant Kellaway Gave some warlike howls And in haste got well away. In this sorry style Died ta Liberal Party, Which in days of old Had been strong and hearty; This, good Mr. Punch, Is ta true edition; Here’s your fery coot health And—bless ta Coalition!
Another Impending Apology.
“We are glad to be able to state in reference to our Pastor that, though much improved in health, he is still unfit to resume his work amongst us.”— —— Congregational Magazine.
“This should bring joy to the heart of every resolutionary Socialist.”—The Workers’ Dreadnought.
All the Socialists we have met answer to this description.
“ADVENTURES OF A POST-WAR SPORTSMAN.”
P.-W. S. (otter-hunting for the first time). “Tired? Cooked to a turn! I wouldn’t ’ave come so far but one of your chaps told me you ’ad a strong drag up the river and I thought we might all go ’ome in it. And now ’e says it’s only a smell ’e meant.”