Puck — March 12, 1879 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PUCK. “A MYSTERY. ‘Sino, skiro, maro mero miro, Liro tiro laro lero lee, Deero quero laddie leddie reero, ‘Skiro wiro warrie merrie mee. Lingo, jingo, sparry sperry spingo, Meetie sweetie carrie kerrie kee, Ypzo, buzo, narry nerry nooso, Ipsy dipsy tarry terrie tee. Skazy, lazy, rassy ressy rosey, Nasy crasy turrie larrie lee, Keezo sneezo mattie mettie pleeso Whiskie friskie morrie merrie mee. T. A. Harran. A GRANDE PRINCESSE DE CANADA. OPERA BOUFFE EN UN ACTE. DRAMATIS PERSON. LaGrande Princesse - =~ Puck : : . - ~~: . . + Puck Le Prince Paul - - - - = Mr. Lome. LeGeneral Boum - - Lt, Col. E.G, P. Littleton. LeBaron Grog - - - — - Postmaster-General. Iza, demoiselle d’honneur, Lady Sophia McNamara. Low-necked Chorus, etc. - Mrs. L. Lorne. Tuee—Some years after the marriage of Prince Paul, SceNE—RIDEAU HALL, Cuorus or THE Low-NECKED. Oh, we are the low-necked crowd, With voices exceedingly loud, * And hands decidedly red; To mercantile manners bred, ‘Though as courtiers here we cavort, We are wives of dealers in furs Or timber, for want of worse, Brought here our parts to rehearse As Lords and Ladies and Sirs In this tuppenny-hapenny, Poor Little Pedlington Six-by-nine Brummagem Court. Enter Littteton-Boum. What ho! mee merry maids and matrons all! Is every one fairly décolleté, to do honor to Her Majesty’s Drawing-Room? File in review before me. [They fil] Ha! see I not one high-necked pinafore?” To the rear, madame, and cut it down! And yonder I behold the corner of a chest-protector reddening the ala- baster pectoral of a Halifax maid. Fair lady, what are the bronchial tubes to Royalty? Re- move that unsightly appendage. [Aside] And that reminds me—I must tell Lore that this time it really will not do to dance his Scotch reel with a porous plaster on his left calf. What's the climate to the exigencies of eti- quette? CRIMINAL WITH THE CHEST-PROTECTOR. But, Colonel— Littteton-Boum. Silence! Before my wrath complaint must stop, For I am boss of thisyer shop. Cuorus. Before his wrath complaint must stop, For he is boss of thisyer shop. LittLeton-Boum. . . Air:—Et pif, paf, pouf! Tam a little god of thunder, Yes, sir, on wheels. At sight of me, with awe and wonder, The blood congeals. In etiquette'’s dear cause I martyr All thisyer court, You'll know why when you see the garter— The Garter! The Garter— That I shall sport! And pif, paf, pouf! tara ba bong, Iam the Colonel Littletong. Enter a@ MESSENGER, Lieutenant Colonel, it is mee dooty to an- nounce the happroach of ‘er Majesty. LittLeton-Boum, ‘Tis well. Poursuivant-at-arms, I approve you, You have the true ’Aymarket Haccent. [Aside, sighing.) O 'Aughty Halbin! ven shall I see again your proud heminences and gorgis palis- ses? But I must dissemble. More of this anon. Cuorus. a Eyes right! by the left low dress! She is coming, the great Princess! And her poor little Commoner hub Whom the nobs of her family snub, Though he isn’t half a bad sort. When he dines with his ma-in-law’s pets, The butler his cover sets "Way down 'mong the baronets. And much the same treatment he gets In this tuppenny-hapenny, Poor Little Pedlington, Six-by-nine Brummagem Court. Enter Tue Princess and the PRINCE, Littieton-Boum (recifative). Your Majesty, I incline myself before you! And trust that you appreciate my goodness. This condescending nod is for your husband, And if he likes it not, so may he lump it. Behold me now in all my radiant glory, Chief etiquettist of this Canada Court; In which capacity you will just permit me To call your royal highness’s attention Unto the fact that your most gracious majest: Has got, though doubtless through some inade vertence, A black on your most gracious majesty’s nose. Tue PRINcEss, I bow beneath a weight of obligation, And I will trouble you, Lieutenant Colonel, To add thereto by lending me your vipe. LittLeton-Boum (in an agitated aside). For Heaven's sake I beg your royaliness To appellae the article a handkerchief. Dear to our hearts the language of our child- hood, And I meeself, in absent-mihded moments, Do sometimes drop into mee 'Ackney lingo. But there's a Yera/d Commissioner behind you. He'll take you down— Tue Princess (suddenly), Who is that nice young man? LittLeton-Boum, ‘Tis but the Her— ‘THE Princess, Nay, yonder, ’mid the low-necked. Call the youth forth, Litt.eton-Boum. Come hither, Goldwin Smith! THe PRIncEss. Not Smith! LittLeton-Boum, Sir John MacDonald, hither! ‘THE PRINCEss, Nay, nay, no Macs. I have had a superfluity Of the noble Scotsman. He I mean is white, Littieron-Boum (dissembling). Immortal Puck, I prithee, sweet, stand forth. (Aside) Ten thousand devils! Agony, rage, despair! (Puck advances.) Tue PRINCESS, Your name? No, no! Puck. Puck. ‘Tue PRINcEss. I have heard of you, fair youth, How many campaigns? How many wounds? . Puck. Two campaigns, Nary wound. Tue Princess. Married? Puck, Do I look like it? Tue PRINCEss, May I ask what procures me the honor of this visit ? Puck. Certainly, Mrs.Lorne. I have come here to show you something respectable in the décol- leté line, or rather dé-cullotté. THE PRINCEss, Noble youth! Duer— Zhe Princess and Puck. Air:—My Mary Ann. Puck, . You're a daisy! THE Princess. You're a darling! Puck, You're a dumpling! ‘THe PRINCEss. You're a lamb! PUCK. You should hear me ploy On the what-d’yer-soy— That's the specimen of hairpin that I am. ‘THE PRINCEss. And now, my fine fellow - for you are a fine fellow—we will converse apart. I have to con- sult you on matters of state. (Zxeunt.) Cuorvs, Unless we are very much out, Mr. Littleton, no doubt Your nose i8 put out of joint, By Puck's sharp crayon point, Your reign will be soon cut short. Life is brief, says the song, And etiquette may be long, But things seem a-going wrong With Littleton, aide-de-kong, In the tuppenny-hapenny, Poor Little Pedlington, Six-by-nine Brummagen Court. Prince Paut Lorne. This is really too bad of Louise. Yesterday she made me ride on’ the box with the driver; the day before she made me stand behind her chair all through that awful state dinner, and now she is studying journalism. I hate journal- ism—I hate journalists—I hate journals. I hate illustrated journals especially —and an illustrated humorous journal aw/ully. See here, this nasty thing: Air:—Voila ce que Con dit de moi. A lovely princess for to marry, Went forth John Sutherland Argyll, In kilt and tartan and Glengarry, He hied him south to Albion's Isle. Now, every day when beams Aurorer, The prince gets up and lights the fire. This is Louise’s proud adorer Who had MacCallum More to sire! Who humbly to his task diurnal Bends low the haughty Highland knee— [furiously —for him, And this is what they say of me In that confounded comic journal. But that isn’t all—just listen: He thought he’d made a grand impression When first he wooed and won and wed— And now, when all the court is fed, He closes up the long procession. This Scottish eagle’s pinions sable The English courts stern rigorsclip; He sometimes dines at second tabl Accepts from Wales a shilling tip. comicbooks.com