Ah, GOG, I am quite of your mind! Which I don’t mind admitting
that KNILL
To a Protestant Giant like me was the least little bit of a pill.
Stillsomever, he’s Lord Mayor now, and did ought to be backed up
as such,
For what City Fathers determine it ain’t for outsiders to touch.
But where are the Big Pots? The Banquet seems shorn of its
splendour to-day.
No Premier, nor no Foreign Sec., nor no Chancellor!!! Really, I say
This is rascally Radical imperence! How can they _dare_ stop away,
From the greatest event of the year, when the words of ripe
wisdom, well wined,
Should fall from grave turtle-fed lips to make heasy the poor
Public mind,
As when PALMERSTON, _DIZZY_, and SALISBURY, spoke from that
time-honoured Chair!
And that GLADSTONE—_he_ ain’t no great loss!—but to think the
Woodchopper should _dare_
To neglect his fust duty like this!!! Oh! it’s Ikybod, just as you
say,
My GOG. Civic glory’s burst up, and the splendour of Lord Mayor’s
Day
Is eclipsed by that L.C.C. lot and their backers. I’m full, GOG,
of fears;
The look-out’s enough to depress us, and move the poor Turtle to
tears.
It’s Ikybod, Ikybod, Ikybod! Oh, for the days that were gayer,
No GLADSTONE, no ROSEBERY, no HARCOURT!!! Wy, _next we shall have
no Lord Mayor!_
[_Left lamenting._
* * * * *
VERY CRUEL.—Mrs. R. was very much annoyed at something she said
having been misreported by a friend. “I can’t trust him,” said the
excellent Lady; “he twists and gargles everything I say.”
* * * * *
OFTEN TALKED ABOUT BUT NEVER SEEN.—“A Clean Sweep.”
* * * * *
[Illustration: ICHABOD!
GOG. “NO PRIME MINISTER! NO FURRIN SECKETARY! NO CHANCELLOR O’ TH’
EXCHEQUER!”