Mr. Punch on the Warpath: Humours of the Army, the Navy and the Reserve Forces by - (famous ebook reader TXT) 📗
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Omnes. 'Ear, 'ear.
Mr. Wilson. And this matter of mobility. Why, if you or me or any of us was on furlough at 'Ampstead or Margit, we was never off a 'orse's or a moke's back as long as the dibs lasted. Give us the brass, and we'll find the mobility.
Pte. W. Smith. Why don't yer write to the Prime Minister, and give him your ideas?
Mr. Wilson. I shall. A few hintelligent ex-privates in the Cabinet, a rise of pay for privates and two days' rabitting, and a trip to Margit every week would sive the British Army.
TRAMPS ["In spite of the demand for recruits, the number of tramps remain, undiminished."—Daily Paper.]Why does not patriotic fire
My all too torpid heart inspire
With irresistible desire
To seek the tented camp, sir,
Where Glory, with her bronze V.C.,
Waits for the brave, perhaps for me?
Because I much prefer to be
A lazy, idle tramp, sir.
[Pg 142]I toil not, neither do I spin.
For me, the laggard days begin
Hours after all my kith and kin
Are weary with their labours;
The heat and burden of the day
They bear, poor fools, as best they may,
While I serenely smoke my clay
And pity my poor neighbours.
When Afric burns the trooper brown,
By leafy lanes I loiter down
Through Haslemere to Dorking town,
Each Surrey nook exploring;
Or 'neath a Berkshire hay-rick I
At listless length do love to lie,
And watch the river stealing by
Between the hills of Goring.
Why should I change these dear delights
For toilsome days and sleepless nights,
And red Bellona's bloody rites
That bear the devil's stamp, sir?
Let others hear the people cry
"A hero he!"—I care not, I,
So I may only live and die,
A lazy, idle tramp, sir.
[Pg 133]
"Well, my dear Admiral, and how did you sleep?"
"Not at all, General. Confounded butterfly flew in at the window, and was flopping around all night—couldn't get a wink of sleep."
"Ah, dashed dangerous things, butterflies!"
[Pg 135]
First Driver (after a long day). "The 'orse 'rtillery's a-getting quite aristercratic. It don't dine till eight o'clock!!"
Second Driver. "Stroikes me to-morrow the 'orse 'rtillery'll be too aristercratic to dine at all!!"
[Pg 137]
Horrid Boy to newly-appointed Volunteer Major, (who finds the military seat very awkward). "Sit further back, General! You'll make his 'ead ache!"
[Pg 139]
No, this is not heroism; this is simply discretion. Little Plumpleigh has just given "Charge!" and taken one look behind to see if his men are "backing him up, don't you know," and he is now making for safety!
[Pg 141]
"Now this is another of my brilliant ideas, the shelter trench exercise. Of course, I know the trench is the wrong way about, and that, when they have finished it, they have to fire into the wood they are defending, and then turn about and charge away from the wood, but, then! we get a capital bank and ditch made round our plantations, with practically no expense!"
Mr. Punch. "And this is what you call instructing the Volunteers?"
[Pg 143]
First Bluejacket. "Well, matey, wot 'appened?"
Second Bluejacket. "Lieutenant, 'e reports as 'ow I were dirty, an' my 'ammick weren't clean, an' captin, 'e ses, 'Wash 'is bloomin' neck, scrub 'is bloomin' face, an' cut 'is bloomin' 'air, every ten minnits!'"
[Pg 144]
Volunteer Captain (acting Major first time). "Now then! What are you boys staring at? Did you never see a war-horse before?"
Boys (who had followed expecting a "spill.") "Aye—we've whiles seen a waur horse, but never a waur rider!"
[Pg 145]
(Energetic Sub has been pursuing runaway mule). "Well done, old chap! You deserve the D.S.O. at least. What is it? Ammunition?" "Ammunition! D.S.O.!! V.C., you mean!!!! Why, it's bottled beer!!!!"
[Pg 146]
British Subaltern. "By-the-by, Smith, can you lend me that sovereign I gave you this morning for a Christmas-box?!"
[Pg 147]
Captain of Rural Corps (calling over the roll). "George Hodge!" (No answer.) "George Hodge!—Where on earth's George Hodge?"
Voice from the ranks. "Please, sir, he's turned dissenter, and says fighting's wicked."
[Pg 148]
THE BUSY BISLEY Scene—Within measurable distance of Woking. Enter lounger and marksman R. and L.Lounger (heartily). Why, I am glad to see you! And how are things going on?
Marksman (cordially, but abruptly). Capitally! Good-bye!
Loung. But I say, what a hurry you are in! Can't you stop a minute for a chat?
Marks. Another time, but just now moments are precious.
Loung. But I say, you see I have found myself here—it doesn't take much longer than getting down to Wimbledon.
Marks. Of course it doesn't—whoever said it did? But there, old chap, I must be off!
Loung. You are in a hurry! Ah, we used to have pleasant days in the old place?
Marks. Did we? I daresay we did.
Loung. Why, of course! Grand old days! Don't you remember what fun it used to be decorating your tent; and then, when the ladies[Pg 150] came down—which they did nearly all the day long—what larks it was getting them tea and claret-cup?
Marks. Very likely. But we don't have many ladies now, and a good job, too—they are a bore.
Loung. Well, you are a chap! Why, how can there be any fun without your sisters, and your cousins, and your maiden aunts?
Marks. We don't want fun. But there, good-bye!
Loung. But I say, I have come all this way to look you up.
Marks. (unbending). Very kind of you, my dear fellow, you have chosen rather an unfortunate time.
Loung. Why, at Wimbledon you had nothing to do!
Marks. Very likely. But then Bisley isn't Wimbledon.
Loung. (dryly). So it seems. Everyone said that when they moved the camp further away from home, they would ruin the meeting.
Marks. Then everyone was wrong. Why, we are going on swimmingly.[Pg 152]
Loung. It must be beastly dull.
Marks. Not at all. Lovely country, good range, and, after it rains, two minutes later it is dry as bone.
Loung. Yes, but it stands to reason that it can't be as popular as Wimbledon.
Marks. My dear fellow, figures are the best test of that. In all the history of the Association we never had more entries than this year.
Loung. That may be, but you don't have half the fun you had nearer town.
Marks. (laughing). Don't want to! Business, my dear fellow, not pleasure! And now, old man, I really must be off. Ta! ta! See you later.
[Exit.
Loung. Well, whatever he may say, I prefer Wimbledon. And as there doesn't seem much for me to do down here, I shall return to town.
[Does so. Curtain.
[Pg 149]
Irascible Lieutenant (down engine-room tube). "Is there a blithering idiot at the end of this tube?"
Voice from Engine-room. "Not at this end, sir!"
[Pg 151]
Festive Middy. "I say, guv'nor! I think you must rather like being Bishop here!"
His Lordship. "Well, my boy, I hope I do! But why do you ask?"
Festive Middy. "Oh, I've just been taking a walk through the city,—and I say!—there is an uncommonly good-looking lot o' girls about, and no mistake!"
[Pg 153]
Colonel Smithson (of the Poonah Marines). "By the way, my boy at Sandhurst hopes to get into your regiment some day."
Little Simpson (of the Royal Hussars Green). "Aw—I—aw hope your son is up to our form!"
Colonel Smithson. "Your form! Dash it, he's over four feet high, anyhow!"
[Pg 154]
Old Gent (with difficulty). "Now really—Oh! this dis—graceful crowding—I'm—I'm positive my gun will go off!"
[Pg 155]
(The regiment is about to "march out" with twenty rounds of "blank cartridge.") Sub-Lieutenant (of twenty-four hours' service). "Whereabouts is this pyrotechnic display of yours coming off, Colonel!!?"
[Pg 156]
Jack. "Well, Polly lass, if it's true as 'ow you're going to get spliced to Bill, all I 'opes is that he'll stick to you through thick and thin!"
Polly. "Well, 'e ought to, Jack. 'E works in a glue factory."
[Pg 157]
"Awful bore, dear old chap. War offith won't have me, thimply becauth my eyethight ith tho doothed bad!"
[Pg 158]
Volunteer Subaltern (as the enemy's scout continues to advance in spite of expenditure of much "blank" ammunition). "If that infernal yeoman comes any nearer, shy stones at him, some of you!"
[Pg 159]
Captain O'Dowd (of the firm of O'Dowd and Jones, stock-jobbers). "What'll I do now? It's beyond me jumpin' powers, an' if I wade I'll be wet to the waist." (To Private Halloran, who in civil life is a stockbroker's clerk). "Here, Halloran, I want a carry over. You do it for me, an' I'll not forget it to you, me lad."
Private Halloran. "Sorry I can't, Captain. You know carryin'-over day is not till the sixteenth, an' this is only the seventh!"
[Pg 160]
A LAY OF THE UNION JACK (By a patriotic Cockney)Though I feel less at home on the bounding wave
Than I do on the firm dry land,
I can spin you a yarn of a right good craft
That is true-British owned and manned.
The winds may blow, and the storms may beat,
And the hurricanes rage and roar,
But "the ship I love" on her course will hold
With the Union Jack at the fore.
Fair weather or foul, she ploughs along,
Leaving far astern the strand,
And many a towering sister bark
We pass on the starboard hand,
And, Westward ho! as we bear away!
I can count stout ships galore,
Abeam, in our wake, and ahead, that fly
The Union Jack at the fore.
And the sight of the flag that has swept the seas,
Nor ever has known disgrace,
Makes even a landlubber's bosom swell
With the pride of his English race.
At that gallant sight in my landsman's heart
I rejoice—and rejoice still more
That I'm only aboard of a road-car 'bus,
With the Union Jack at the fore!
[Pg 161]
Officer at firing-point (who thinks that it's raining). "Sergeant Mauchline, hadn't you better wear your greatcoat till it's your turn to fire?" Sergeant Mauchline (frae the "Land of Lorne"). "Hoo! Nothe noo! I'll pit it on when it comes wat!"
[Pg 162]
DO'S AND DONT'S FOR VOLUNTEERS 1. Don't go to camp. But if you do,2. Don't get up when revally sounds. You'll find adjutant's parade in the early morning, the very early morning, such a beastly bore, and so bad for the liver that it is far wiser to stay in the "palliasse"—(besides, hasn't your doctor often told you that it is madness to suppose you can play such tricks at your time of life?)—they can only give you a few years' imprisonment for repeated mutinous conduct, and
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