 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE FIRST SHOT
(July, 1882)
Lo, the Demon of drink went abroad on the blast,
In political messes he will be;
Goody Granville made this Ultimatum his last,
If it was not that conjurcr Gilbey.
For a very bad spirit had somehow got out,
And the better for all if it wère in;
As it knocked the poor Kingdom quite into a clout,
While it revelled in Egypt and Erin.
In political messes he will be;
Goody Granville made this Ultimatum his last,
If it was not that conjurcr Gilbey.
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And the better for all if it wère in;
As it knocked the poor Kingdom quite into a clout,
While it revelled in Egypt and Erin.
Yet it matters but little who first made the mess,
When the land was the prey of the Demon;
Though the Irishman swore he had gone to confess,
And the Scotsman denied it was he, mon.
And the Englishman said, he had stuck to his shop,
It was loudly disclaimed by the Cabinet;
And wise Gladstone had let foreign policy drop,
For he knew he was not a great dab in it.
When the land was the prey of the Demon;
Though the Irishman swore he had gone to confess,
And the Scotsman denied it was he, mon.
And the Englishman said, he had stuck to his shop,
It was loudly disclaimed by the Cabinet;
And wise Gladstone had let foreign policy drop,
For he knew he was not a great dab in it.
Though abroad went the Demon through field and through flood,
At a chapel he stopped to have mass in;
For he scented afar the sweet savour of blood,
Yet he wished to absolve the assassin.
Then he kindly looked in on the Priest at his Psalms,
And took just one hot tumbler of toddy;
While he left a large case for assistance in alms—
To encourage, of course, the poor body.
At a chapel he stopped to have mass in;
For he scented afar the sweet savour of blood,
Yet he wished to absolve the assassin.
Then he kindly looked in on the Priest at his Psalms,
And took just one hot tumbler of toddy;
While he left a large case for assistance in alms—
To encourage, of course, the poor body.
He was loth to leave Ireland, and yet he must go
To the banquet of slaughter Egyptian;
In the face of Bright's Hat, and Ineffable Joe;
To let blood, was his only prescription.
He left Whig craft at strife with the Radical art,
And still trying to put a new gag on;
While poor Gladstone was posed in St. George's old part,
And the Cha-rlatan playing the Drag-on.
To the banquet of slaughter Egyptian;
In the face of Bright's Hat, and Ineffable Joe;
To let blood, was his only prescription.
He left Whig craft at strife with the Radical art,
And still trying to put a new gag on;
While poor Gladstone was posed in St. George's old part,
And the Cha-rlatan playing the Drag-on.
And he found the whole Fleet in a terrible rage,
The men more bloody-minded than Bonner;
While they fretted and chafed for the word to engage,
And to wipe off the stain of dishonour.
Ammunition was there, and the weather was hot,
And the sailors look vastly like winning;
So he said to himself I will fire the first shot,
And just set the great war-ball aspinning.
The men more bloody-minded than Bonner;
While they fretted and chafed for the word to engage,
And to wipe off the stain of dishonour.
Ammunition was there, and the weather was hot,
And the sailors look vastly like winning;
So he said to himself I will fire the first shot,
And just set the great war-ball aspinning.
In the stillness preceding the storm, from beneath
In the Admiral's ship came a popping;
And all hands hurried forward, all armed to the teeth,
To give Arabi—O such a whopping!
And the first shot was fired with such fatal effect,
As was never before in a cámpaign,
That a horrible panic seized Egypt's elect—
Though it was but a bottle of chámpagne.
In the Admiral's ship came a popping;
And all hands hurried forward, all armed to the teeth,
To give Arabi—O such a whopping!
And the first shot was fired with such fatal effect,
As was never before in a cámpaign,
That a horrible panic seized Egypt's elect—
Though it was but a bottle of chámpagne.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |