Mr Punch Afloat Part 15

[Ill.u.s.tration: EASTER RECREATIONS

_Enthusiastic Skipper_ (_to friend_). "Ah, my boy! this is what you wanted. In a short time you'll feel yourself a different man!"]

RIVERSIDE SUNDAY

Unnumbered are the trees that fling O'er Pangbourne Reach their shade, Unnumbered there the birds that sing Melodious serenade; But as the leaves upon the boughs Or feathers on the birds, So are the trippers who carouse Along the banks in herds.

Punt, centre-board, launch, skiff, canoe, Lunch-laden hither hie, Each bearing her expectant crew To veal and chicken-pie; And from the woods around Hart's Lock Reports ring loud and clear, As trippers draw the festive hock Or democratic beer.

From one to three, below, above, Is heard the crisp, clear crunch Of salad, as gay Damons love To linger over lunch.

From three to six a kettle sings 'Neath every sheltering tree As afternoon to Phyllis brings The magic hour of tea.

Well may the c.o.c.kney fly the Strand For this remoter nest, Where buses cease from rumbling and The motors are at rest.

But would you shun your fellows--if To quiet you incline-- Oh, rather scull your s.h.i.+lling skiff Upon the Serpentine.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PRO BONO PUBLICO

_Brown (pa.s.senger by the Glasgow steamer, 8.30 a.m.)._ "I beg pardon, sir, but I think you've made a mistake. That is my tooth-brus.h.!.+"

_McGrubbie (ditto)._ "Ah beag years, mun, ah'm sure. Ah thoght 't belanged to the sheip!!"]

NEW SAILING ORDERS

(_To be in force on or after the next Ultimo instant_)

_The Darkest Night._--Any man not knowing when the darkest night is will be discharged.

Inquiries can be made any day at the Admiralty from 10 till 4, excepting from 1 till 2, when all hands are piped to luncheon.

_The Rule of the Rowed_ at sea is similar to the rule of the sailed.

No s.h.i.+p must come into collision with another.

If two steamers are on the starboard tack, they must return to the harbour and begin again.

Any steams.h.i.+p likely to meet another steams.h.i.+p must reverse and go somewhere else.

Any admiral out after 12 o'clock will be locked up wherever he is.

n.o.body, however high in command, can be permitted to sit on a buoy out at sea for the purpose of frightening vessels.

All complaints to be made to the Admiralty, or to one of the mounted sentries at the Horse Guards.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

An admiral is on duty all night to receive complaints.

Every mounted marine on joining must bring his own fork, spoon and towel horse.

If two vessels are meeting end on, take one end off. The other loses and forfeits sixpence.

Any infringement or infraction of the above rules and regulations will be reported by the head winds to the deputy toastmaster for the current year at Colwell-Hatchney.

N.B.--On hand a second-hand pair of gloves for boxing the compa.s.s.

Remember the 26th of December is near, when they may be wanted. The equivalent of a chaplain-general to the forces has been appointed. He is to be called chaplain-admiral to the fleet. The c.o.c.kpits are being turned into pulpits. If not ready by next Sunday he will deliver his first sermon from the main-top gallant jibboom mizen. The Colney-Hatches will be crowded.

[Ill.u.s.tration: OUT OF IT

The eldest Miss Blossom thinks that the part of double gooseberry is rather monotonous.]

[Ill.u.s.tration: HOW LITTLE OUR DEAR ONES UNDERSTAND US

_Madge._ "My dear George, there you've been sitting with your camera since breakfast, and you haven't taken anything."

_George (intent on his own feelings)._ "Don't ask me to, darling, I couldn't touch it!"]

A REGATTA RHYME

_On Board the "Athena," Henley-on-Thames_

I like, it is true, in a ba.s.swood canoe To lounge, with a weed incandescent: To paddle about, there is not a doubt, I find it uncommonly pleasant!

I love the fresh air, the lunch here and there, To see pretty toilettes and faces; But one thing I hate--allow me to state-- The fuss they make over the Races!

_I don't care a rap for the Races!_-- _Mid all the Regatta embraces_-- _I'm that sort of chap, I don't care a rap,_ _A rap or a snap for the Races!_

I don't care, you know, a bit how they row, Nor mind about smartness of feather; If steering is bad, I'm not at all sad, Nor care if they all swing together!

Oh why do they shout and make such a rout, When one boat another one chases?

'Tis really too hot to bawl, is it not?

Or bore oneself over the Races!

_I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._

Then the Umpire's boat a nuisance we vote, It interrupts calm contemplation; Its discordant tone, and horrid steam moan, Is death to serene meditation!

The roar of the crowd should not be allowed; The gun with its fierce fulmination, Abolish it, pray--'tis fatal, they say, To pleasant and quiet flirtation!

_I don't care a rap for the Races, &c., &c._