"[Greek: Lays are a luxury songs essential.]"
_'Arrystophanes._
It is evident that the nation is yearning for singable songs in the
'Arry dialect. The late lamented Artemus Ward would probably have said,
"Let her yearn"; but a stern sense of duty impels me to try and meet the
need, created by the _Daily Chronicle_. I have a comforting impression
that all that is necessary to insure correctness is to "chinge" as many
"a"s as possible into "i"s. By this means I secure the "local
colouring," which, by the way, has undergone a complete change since
Dickens spelt Weller "with a wee, my lord." A catchword, a propos of
nothing, is always useful, so I have duly provided it.
'ARRY THE OPTIMIST
I.
Oh! you should see
My gal and me
(Mariar is 'er nime),
When we go daown
To Brighton taown
To 'ave a gorjus time.
She wears sich feathers in 'er 'at,
She's beautiful and guy,
But it ain't all beer and skittles--flat
And 'ere's the reason why:
_Refrine--_
She 'urries me, she worries me,
To ketch the bloomin' trine;
She 'ustles me, she bustles me,
She grumbles 'arf the time:
It's "'Arry do," and "'Arry don't,"
Which "'Arry" will, or "'Arry" won't
(It goes against the grine),
But--
(_Triumphantly._)
We 'as a 'appy 'ollidy,
We gets there all the sime.
--'Urry up, 'Arry.