_Ameer, dressing for a projected Visit, sings:_--
Fools called me a mere "Nigger" when I felt Dame Fortune's frown;
Up and down--I have known;
But now the folks all say, "Why, you're fit to wear a crown.
Black or brown--you've won renown."
Now a lot of gossips they patter and spy.
Someone says, "He wants to have the Muscovite hard by."
"Muscovite!" said I,--"hard by!--you're mistooken!
This Ameer wants to see no Muscovite.
Not at all!--not a bit!--
'Tain't for him at all the Afghan crown is meant!"
"Go on!"--say they,--"Who is it?"
_Chorus._
"Why, it's AB-DUR-RAHMAN, son of AFZUL, son of DOST
MOHAMMED, means to rule the fierce Af_ghan_!
Don't you know me?--Go on!--Well, you _will_, my good man,
For I'm AB-DUR-RAHMAN the dandy Afghan Khan!"
Now a man like me is a terror to the tribes,
The Shinwaris,--the Ghilzais!
And ISHAK KHAN and others found me galling to their kibes,
When revolts--they would raise.
They've been putting it about the Ameer is ill.
(Wouldn't they delight to administer a pill!)
"Ameer, you're ill--_mortal_ ill!"--but I wasn't!
"You've palpitation," the quidnuncs state,
"From your soles--to your scalp.
ISHAK at Samarcand makes your heart palpitate!"
"Go on!"--said I,--"nary palp!"
_Chorus._--For I'm AB-DUR-RAHMAN, &c.
Now I've long had an ambition to far England for to go,
Don't you know,--that is so!
See Empress-Queen VICTORIA and Mister WALES also.
I'm asked to go--to that show!
The Empress-Queen to visit me doesn't care.
(And doubtless Afghan fashions might make VICTORIA stare.)
But there--I swear--I'll go!--and I'm going!
Men may say "It's the Shah that this show's about!"--
And another "You're an ass, Sir!
'Taint the Shah-in-Shah at all--you're a long way out!"--
"Go on!"--he'll say,--"ain't it NASS'R?"
_Chorus._--No, it's AB-DUR-RAHMAN, &c.
So I'll dress the part as near as can be,
Please JOHN B.--don't you see!
My close-fitting lambswool and silver filagree,
Empress V.--might find "free."
Should the tribesmen twig this peculiar rig
They'd think their Ameer had turned Infidel Pig.
What a toff!--Well, I'll say--I'm here--to see the Empress!--
What is that "coon" all the comics sing about?
Mister BROWN--JOHN JAMES!
If as to me Mister BULL has a doubt,
Go on!--I'll say.--My names?
_Chorus._
Why, they're AB-DUR-RAHMAN, son of AFZUL, son of DOST
MAHOMMED, wearer of the Afghan Crown.
Don't you know me?--Go on?--Well, you will very soon,
For I'm AB-DUR-RAHMAN KHAN, the dandy Afghan coon!
* * * * *
[Illustration: A MOST ENTERTAINING OCCUPATION.
SMITHSON, HAVING RECENTLY BOUGHT A COUNTRY PLACE AND GONE IN FOR
SPORT, HAS BEEN ADVISED BY A FRIEND TO DO HIS OWN EXERCISING DURING
HARD WEATHER, "AS IT INSURES YOUR HORSES AGAINST THE NEGLECT OF
GROOMS, AND ALSO KEEPS YOU IN FORM."
[_He tries it, and finds it--as above._
]
* * * * *
"HALE FELLOW, WELL MET."--"PIERRE BLANC, the hale Savoyard of
eighty-eight, took his usual place in the French Chamber," reports the
_Times_ correspondent last week, "and delivered one of his customary
addresses."
What a charming party of three,
BISMARCK, BLANC, and Mr. G.,
Decidedly very much alive,
United ages Two Four Five!
* * * * *
[Illustration: COUNTER-IRRITATION.