When the snow's on the ground and the trees are all bare,
And rivers and gutters are turned into ice,
The sportsman goes forth to shoot rabbit or hare,
And gives them a taste of his skill in a trice.
Bang! bang! goes his Joe,
And the bird's fall like snow,
And he bags all he kills in a trice.
CHORUS.
Bang! bang! goes his Joe,
And the bird's fall like snow,
And he bags all he kills in a trice.
II.
If he puts up a partridge or pheasant or duck,
He marks him, and wings him, and brings him to earth;
He let's nothing fly--but his piece--and good luck
His bag fills with game and his bosom with mirth.
Bang! bang! goes his Joe,
And the bird's fall like snow,
And good sport fills his bosom with mirth.
CHORUS.
Bang! bang! et. etc.
III.
When at night he unbends and encounters his pals,
How delighted he boasts of the sport he has had;
While a kind of round game's on the board, and gals
Are toasted in bumpers by every lad.
And Jack, Jim, and Joe
Give the maid chaste as snow
That is true as a shot to her lad!
CHORUS.
And Jack, Jim and Joe
Give the maid chaste as snow
That is true as a shot to her lad!
The customary applause having followed this vocal attempt of Sniggs, he
was asked for a toast or a sentiment.
"Here's--'May the charitable man never know the want of--'shot.'" said
Sniggs.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Saggers, approvingly; "By Jupiter Tonans, Sniggs,
you're a true son of--a gun!"
THE "CRACK-SHOTS."--No. III.
"Sich a lark!" said Bill Sorrel, breaking abruptly in upon the noisy
chorus, miscalled a general conversation; "sich a lark!"
"Where?" demanded Saggers.
"You've jist hit it," replied Sorrel, "for it vere worry near 'Vare vhere
it happened. I'd gone hout hearly, you know, and had jist cotched sight
of a bird a-vistling on a twig, and puttered the vords, 'I'll spile your
singin', my tight 'un,' and levelled of my gun, ven a helderly gentleman,
on t'other side of the bank vich vos atween me and the bird, pops up his
powdered noddle in a jiffy, and goggling at me vith all his eyes, bawls
pout in a tantivy of a fright, 'You need'nt be afear'd, sir,' says I, 'I
aint a-haiming at you,' and vith that I pulls my trigger-bang! Vell, I
lost my dicky! and ven I looks for the old 'un, by Jingo! I'd lost him
too. So I mounts the bank vere he sot, but he vas'nt there; so I looks
about, and hobserves a dry ditch at the foot, and cocking my eye along
it, vhy, I'm blessed, if I did'nt see the old fellow a-scampering along
as fast as his legs could carry him. Did'nt I laugh, ready to
split--that's all!"
"I tell you what, Sorrel," said the president, with mock gravity, "I
consider the whole affair, however ridiculous, most immoral and
reprehensible. What, shall a crack-shot make a target of an elder?
Never! Let us seek more appropriate butts for our barrels! You may
perhaps look upon the whole as a piece of pleasantry but let me tell you
that you ran a narrow chance of being indicted for a breach of the peace!
And remember, that even shooting a deer may not prove so dear a shot as
bringing down an old buck!"
This humorous reproof was applauded by a "bravo!" from the whole club.
Sorrel sang--small, and Sniggs sang another sporting ditty.
"Our next meeting," resumed Saggers, "is on Thursday next when the
pigeon-match takes place for a silver-cup--the 'Crack Shots' against the
'Oriental Club.' I think we shall give them I taste of our quality,'
although we do not intend that they shall lick us. The silver-cup is
their own proposal. The contest being a pigeon-match, I humbly proposed,
as an amendment, that the prize should be a tumbler--which I lost by a
minority of three. In returning thanks, I took occasion to allude to
their rejection of my proposition, and ironically thanked them for having
cut my tumbler."
"Werry good!" shouted Sorrel.
"Admirable!" exclaimed Sniggs; and, rising with due solemnity, he
proposed the health of the "worthy president," prefacing his speech with
the modest avowal of his inability to do what he still persisted in doing
and did.
"Brother Shots!" said Saggers, after the usual honours had been duly
performed, "I am so unaccustomed to speaking (a laugh), that I rise with
a feeling of timidity to thank you for the distinguished honour you have
conferred on me. Praise, like wine, elevates a man, but it likewise
thickens and obstructs his speech; therefore, without attempting any
rhetorical flourish, I will simply say, I sincerely thank you all for the
very handsome manner in which you have responded to the friendly wishes
of Brother Sniggs; and, now as the hour of midnight is at hand, I bid you
farewell. It is indeed difficult to part from such good company; but,
although it is morally impossible there ever can be a division among such
cordial friends, both drunk and sober may at least separate--in spirits,
--and I trust we shall all meet again in health--Farewell!"